Big Daddy SEAL - Mickey Miller(ang.)

BIG DADDY SEAL

JACKSON KANE MICKEY MILLER

CONTENTS

Big Daddy SEAL Jackson’s special thanks: Craving more? Stalk Jackson properly Big Daddy SEAL Prologue 1. Genevieve 2. Kade 3. Genevieve 4. Kade 5. Kade 6. Genevieve 7. Kade 8. Genevieve 9. Kade 10. Genevieve 11. Kade 12. Genevieve 13. Kade 14. Genevieve 15. Kade Epilogue About the Author About the Author Jackson Kane

Craving more? Billionaire Takes All Prologue Lucas Richard Lucas Richard Lucas Richard Richard Lucas Richard Richard Lucas Richard Lucas Richard Lucas Lucas Richard Lucas Richard Lucas Lucas Richard Lucas Richard Lucas Richard Richard Lucas Richard

Richard End About the Author Craving more? The Casanova Experience Prologue Part One One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Part Two Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six Twenty-Seven Twenty-Eight Twenty-Nine Thirty Epilogue The End Also by Mickey Miller Coming Soon!

BIG DADDY SEAL A HOLIDAY ROMANCE

Bestselling Authors Mickey Miller Jackson Kane Copyright © 2018 Jackson Kane Copyright © 2018 Mickey Miller

All rights reserved. Big Daddy SEAL is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. They are not to be construed in any way. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Edited by Julie Ahern, Harlow Kane, Kim Byrd

JACKSON’S SPECIAL THANKS: TO MY BEAUTIFUL PA- HARLOW KANE

To Pepper, Red, Tre, and the rest of my sexy Sugar Kanes. And to my kick ass Kandy Kanes. And to Genevieve Lattanzio for letting me use her beautiful name

CRAVING MORE?

Billionaire Takes All Bigger and Badder My Holiday Secret Mr. Lucky Breaking Autumn Billion Dollar Urge It’s Only Acting

STALK JACKSON PROPERLY

Facebook Jackson's Kandy Kanes (fan group) Twitter Email Newsletter Goodreads Website Email- [email protected] Stalk Mickey’s Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cjHaxD

BIG DADDY SEAL A SECOND CHANCE MILITARY ROMANCE

In the spirit of the holidays we’ve also included two free bonus novels for your reading enjoyment :) —————————————————— On Second Chances:

“Sometimes, two people need to fall apart to realize how much they need to fall back together.”

-unknown

PROLOGUE KADE

“P

lease fill this out as we arrive,” the stewardess said, in accented English, as she handed me the customs form. I eased back in my first-class seat, sipping the plastic cup of whiskey and letting it coat my throat. The lights of Lima, Peru grew brighter with every minute. As I fill out the customs form, I hesitated on question seven. How long is your stay? Are you visiting any family? I scrubbed a hand across my day-old beard and snort at the question. Every time the theme of family has come up, throughout my eight years in the military, my answer had always been the same. Family? What family? My estranged brother? My parents who

disowned me for joining the military, and who died years ago? The closest thing I ever had to a family was joining the SEALs. I’d been through hell and back with them, and I would have taken a bullet for those guys. They’d have done the same for me. It was extreme but there was no other way to live, and if you didn’t have honor, what the fuck were you living for? Still, at twenty-six years old, I couldn’t help but hover over that question. When I told most people, it seemed like the weirdest thing in the world that I would jet out to some random world class city for the holidays. Every year was somewhere new - if I had the vacation hours. Since I’d done my time overseas, I worked on the base in Fort Polk for the last couple of years, pretending I was the enemy to train the new guys who would end up in the fight. When my re-enlistment came up this year, I’d briefly considered other options, but in the end, there was really only one option: keep doing what I was doing. Now, I just had to wait and see where they were going to station me for the next four years. I inked my answers to the rest of the questions, and a few minutes later we began our descent. I finished all of my whiskey in one swig, enjoying the burn as it went down. I wasn’t a big drinker, but a good one now and then helped me

forget what I needed to. Even if I was in Middle of Nowhere, Louisiana, I wasn’t going back to Douglas, Texas. Nothing to go back for, anyway. After the flight landed, I went through customs, my mind racing on its own as I waited for my bag to come through. Lima was said to have some of the best food in the world and I was pumped for that, and for the surfing on the coast. It would be a light and fun week of no responsibility. Just the way I liked it. I pulled out my phone and took it off airplane mode. Did they have Uber in Lima? Probably not. It hadn’t been adopted by most South American cities yet. I found the airport WIFI and connected, thinking I would at least give it a shot. If not, I’d grab a taxi. Just then, I noticed a man walking around with a two-dollar sign that said Kade Houston on it. At the exact same time, my phone buzzed, what felt like two dozen times, in my pocket. Adrenaline pumped through me and I suddenly felt very awake, especially for having just been on an eight hour flight. I pretended not to notice the sign with my name on it for the moment. Who knew what kind of shady stuff someone might be trying to pull. I checked my phone and a dozen messages popped up, both on my regular number and from my WhatsApp.

When the U.S. Navy needed to get a hold of you, they did just that. I squinted at my texts, and the theme seemed to be the same. Some bad news, sergeant. Looks like your brother has passed away. Your presence is requested. Please report home. You’ve been given a leave of absence for two weeks. My stomach tumbled with anxiety. I hadn’t talked to my brother in years, and though I felt a little guilty about it, I didn’t much like assholes. Especially not assholes who left my family high and dry when I’d begged him not to. Now he was dead. I took a deep breath as I saw my bag creeping up toward me on the conveyor belt. I grabbed it and walked over to the man holding a sign with my name. He didn’t say much, and I wasn’t sure if he even spoke English. The man handed me an envelope with a new, printed ticket. It was for a flight that left in two hours. I nodded. “Gracias.” “De nada,” he said. “Lo siento por eso.” I gazed at the doors leading outside to the fresh air of Lima and the week of adventure I’d had ahead of me. Not anymore. I turned around, went through security again,

and boarded the flight home. Texas, here we come.

1

GENEVIEVE

“I

t’s going to be cold tonight,” Mom said idly on the other end of the phone. A thousand mini-concerns made Mom’s voice distant as she clicked on the various technical weather readouts on her laptop. I was raised by an environmentally-minded family who made all natural, locally sourced, aloe vera-based bathing products. My parents were a bunch of hippies who made soap. Or rather, they were until they retired. Now, it was my turn. It had always been my dream to run the family business, and now that I was in control… I was terrified. “Yeah, I hear Florida is supposed to drop to a freezing eighty-one degrees. Has the governor issued a state of emergency yet?” I responded,

equally distracted as I shuffled through various past-due notices on my desk. I organized the bills by date and general nastiness, then put them in the filing cabinet next to my computer. It was a lovely game I got to play every month called “How the hell is Genny going to get out of this mess?”. I was doing everything I could think of to keep us afloat, including branching out into new markets. “There’s a cold front coming in from Canada,” Mom said, missing my reply completely. She, of course, was talking about the weather here in Texas, not there in their Florida condo. “It’s supposed to drop eight degrees tonight. I know the shop isn’t insulated as well as it should be.” “Good thing one of the mixers caught fire then,” I replied, mustering up a sliver of a smile. “Warmed the place right up.” You’ll have to adjust the temperature on the melter tanks to make up for the difference. Have you done that yet?” Mom asked, again ignoring my reply. “The what now?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Oh, you mean the water-jacketed oil and wax soap-melting, heater tanks? The most critical piece of equipment in the shop that I’ve been trained to use since before I got my braces off?” I briefly let the stale air of exasperation linger long enough to drive my point home. “Nah. Sold that for drugs.”

It had been eight months since I inherited everything from my parents and it wasn’t until recently that I realized just how much trouble the family business was in. Forty years ago we had three buildings and ten employees. Dad had to sell everything, but this main warehouse, early last year just to pay off all of the mounting debt. They had kept a lot of the financial stress from my sister and me to protect us. I wish they hadn’t. Then maybe I could’ve helped, or at least been more prepared for when I took over. There were just too many options out there for soap now, we couldn’t compete anymore. Shepherd Soaps was in serious trouble. And that was before the fifty-thousand-dollar bank loan I took out in secret. December was going to make or break us. I checked Etsy and a few other sites where I had secretly listed a few products under a different company name. Soap might be dying, but the new stuff I listed was taking off like crazy! I checked the shipping manifest for the special gear I’d ordered with that bank loan. It was on its way. The sudden, unexpected success of our new line of products came with its own difficulties. To meet the demand and keep my seller rating up I needed different equipment, expensive equipment. Up until now I’d been making due with what we had here, but if orders picked up for the holiday

season like I hoped they would, I’d be screwed if I didn’t have the right gear. “Genevieve…” Mom sighed, concern heavy in her voice. I knew they just wanted to help any way they could. “No. No more questions. Sorry, you’ve hit your daily allotment.” I protested, taking the moment to stand up and stretch my sore back. I’d spent too long hunched over my work desk agonizing over bills. “The thing about being retired is…you have to retire. Stop worrying. I got this.” I glanced around my cramped office looking for my coffee. It was going to be another long night and I needed to be about a hundred times less exhausted than I was. The office was actually a pretty good size, but it was currently crammed full of all my stuff from my old apartment. I spotted my mug which was resting on top of a Tetris stack of books on my entertainment center. I kicked my shoes off and stepped on the cot I’d been sleeping on to grab it. It didn’t make sense to keep my apartment when I spent so much time at work. But that might be changing too. My shipment of aloe vera was a few days late, and after tonight I’d be out of all the inventory I already had. Almost every product I sold had aloe in it; if I didn’t get more soon, I’d be sitting on my hands looking at orders I couldn’t fill. It would’ve been so much easier to just find

another aloe farm, there were dozens, maybe even hundreds of them in the country. But none of them had a natural purple hue to them. I didn’t know how the Copas were growing their crops, but we’d built our brand around that signature color. Granted I could’ve dyed the product, but then I’d have to undergo a ton of additional state tests and would’ve had to make all new packaging for both the soap and the...other products. Between all the graphic design costs for the new labels, government testing fees, and higher shipping costs to import aloe from across the country, or world, it was still crazily cheaper to deal with Copa’s price gouging. And that wasn’t even mentioning the small town politics that would’ve sunk my business if I wasn’t careful. Why was everything always so stressful? “Genevieve,” Mom said, after a long pause. “I know we didn’t leave you the business in the best situation. The turn in the economy, and a few bad investments…” “Mom, it’s OK.” I tried lightening my tone. It was all I could do to shake off the dark mood that was falling over me. “We need you to know that if things get too bad you have our blessing to sell Shepherd Soaps. We don’t want you to start getting harassed by the bank, your father went through that and it was just

horrible.” Hearing her say that was ice water down my throat. “Mom.” I struggled to swallow. “Your father and I talked about this at length. He agrees. You won’t get much for it, especially when you split the money with your sister, but it might be enough for you two to get started at college or whatever you want to do.” “NO.” I snapped harsher than I meant. “Mom, Shepherd Soaps has been in our family for three generations. It’s not dying with me.” Not to mention, the thought of my lazy sister getting half the payout from selling the business made my stomach turn. She was more concerned with her YouTube followers than our family legacy. “Everything is fine.” I laughed to keep the anxiety from my voice. “Great, in fact! This could be our best season in years. We’re getting more orders in like crazy.” Just not orders for soap. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that our last soap distributor canceled their order with us earlier today, and I sure-as-hell didn’t have the courage to tell them what I was selling that was actually bringing money in. “Alright,” Mom begrudgingly relented. “Well, that’s good.” I exhaled away from the phone so that she

couldn’t hear my relief. They’d done so much for us it was time that they were able to relax and finally live their own lives. “But ask Amber to help you. I don’t like you doing everything on your own.” “Sure. I’ll ask her.” It was hard not to scoff at the thought. I asked my sister for help all the time, but she was always too busy with her social media campaigns. Even now I could hear Amber in the store part of the building, but knew she wasn’t setting up the Christmas decorations like I asked. More than likely she was just stealing some of the merchandise because her apartment upstairs had run out. She was talking to someone despite it being way too late for any customers. She was probably recording another YouTube video. “About Christmas this year,” Mom started. The sound of regret in her voice made me realize immediately where this was going. “Aw Mom, really?” I whined. “Between flight costs and getting settled here, it’s just not going to be possible. I’m sorry sweetie.” Mom went on to give me other reasons as well, but none of them lifted the weight on my heart. Maybe it was just because of all the stress or not seeing them in well over half a year, but hearing they weren’t coming home for the holidays really bummed me out. With everything moving so fast

this year I’d been longing for a sense of familiarity. It had been so hard lately that I needed something good in my life; I needed good people like my parents. Good people like… My mind started to drift when I heard a deeper voice answer one of Amber’s questions. A voice I hadn’t heard in a long time, but one that was unmistakably familiar. It couldn’t be after all this time, could it? “Mom, I gotta go. We have a customer.” “OK, sweetie. Good luck!” Mom perked up at the thought of a customer. I leaped out of my sad, makeshift office bed and was out the door before I good fully say, “Love you, bye.” There was no way. Amber’s whisper-talk voice, she thought was sexy, prattled on about something that was too low to actually make out. My mind had to be playing tricks on me! It’d been so many years. I was probably just mis-remembering it. My heart started to race, and my hands and the back of my neck started to flush with heat. With a quickness I thought I was too tired for, I dashed past the melting tanks, forming station and soap-curing racks of the manufacturing room, and reached for the door that would’ve led me into the storefront.

He spoke again and it stopped me dead on the other side of that door. His deep, smooth voice was like a shot of my favorite whiskey. It burned in all the right ways, but for all the wrong reasons. I cracked open the door and there, beyond my shamelessly flirting sister, was Kade Houston. My pounding, wounded heart still had the cracks in it from the last time I saw him. He was exactly how I remembered, but so different at the same time. Standing taller and straighter than I’d ever seen him, Kade had filled out in our years apart. His military-cut dark brown hair was as short and neat as I imagined it would be, but almost everything else had changed. Gone was his thin, athletic frame. The Kade that stood before me now was filled out, burly even, but not in the same way of an after work gym rat. It was hard to explain. I didn’t know if I could put my finger on it. Maybe it was just in the way he carried himself now. It looked like every pound of densely-packed muscle he had was hard earned in training or in combat. If he was anyone else, seeing such a large man suddenly in my shop would be terrifying. I swallowed all the old giddiness I used to get whenever he was around. Nostalgia, yearning, fantasy, heartbreak, and a hundred other emotions all churned in my chest and burned like wildfire. I played out this exact scenario for years but never thought it would actually happen. He looked

incredibly manly in his thick coat and jeans, but much to my surprise, he hadn’t lost the boyish dimples that made girls crumble around him. I hated how excited I felt when his smoldering, hickory eyes flicked past Amber and landed on me. I felt smothered in them - like drowning in dark honey. Seeing how handsome he’d become ripped the air from my lungs. When I finally mustered up the courage I stormed into the room. The fire escaped my chest and flashed over the rest of my body, the heat growing more intense with every step closer to him. No, not heat...anger. I didn’t even try to keep the growl from my voice. “You’ve got some fucking balls to show up here after what you did.”

2

KADE

“I

need to use a phone charger,” I explained again to the blonde with huge tits and way too much mascara, considering how late at night it was. Did I miss the part where Douglas had the latest new club in the area? Who knew? I was tired, and weary, and my brain was fried. Twenty, or so, straight hours of traveling and going through security will do that to you. I held out my phone and stared at the broad as she tried everything in her power to get me to look at them. I mean damn, those huge things were just off in their own little world. Hell, they could damn well occupy their own zip code. But at the moment, my mind swirled with a million different emotions - in light of my brother’s

death, romance was the last thing on my mind. “I can certainly help you with that.” She flashed a wide smile my way, but deliberately kept from grabbing the phone I was holding in front of her. Her lips were so red they’d make the maroon Crayola crayon blush. “I’m Amber, by the way.” I squinted as she stuck a hand out and I shook it, politely. I cocked my head. She looked a lot like someone I used to know. It was hard to tell for sure through all that makeup, though. Plus, I hadn’t been back here in eight years. “Kade,” I answered. “I was driving through and saw the lights. I figured you might be able to help me with the issue I’m having.” “Of course,” she smiled, holding onto my hand for a few extra seconds longer than seemed normal. Her eyes still locked on mine, she leaned forward to grab the phone and ‘accidentally’ grazed my bicep with her chest. “Oh, excuse me,” she said with the same, fake looking smile. “Clumsy me. But oh my. You are...muscular. I bet you work out a lot.” Reaching out, she tried to wrap her small hand around my bicep, it didn’t come close. I rubbed my forehead with a fingers and caught a glimpse of our profiles in one of the windows. I was at least a half-foot taller than this girl, and yeah I was jacked. That tends to happen after eight years of constantly pushing your body to the brink

of exhaustion for workouts. An unintended consequence of that was I’d become accustomed to women hitting on me. Often, there was a certain type of girl who went after me. They were airheaded, aggressive, and wanted me for basically one thing--the ride they knew a strong as hell man could take them on. They say in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. And in the land of a bunch of wimpy soy-boys, as a lot of these small towns were, they called me a breath of strong, fresh air. Sure, I’d had my fun over the years with some casual relationships. But these days I needed something else to be attracted to in a girl, aside from zip-code owning tits: intelligence. There was just something about a smart as fuck girl that got my engine revving. Amber’s eyes drug up my chest and finally landed on my face. “If you’re looking for somewhere to stay tonight, I do have an apartment just above here. It’s no trouble.” I leaned in, seeing that hope on her face. She had that glint in her eyes, licking her lips like she was about to score the big goal. I hated to be the asshole and break it to her. Okay, correction. I enjoyed this part. “Listen, Amber. What I need, is for you to charge up this phone so I can be on my merry way.

Is that something you can do for me, or not?” She huffed and muttered something under her breath as she turned around to find an outlet for me. As she turned, my eyes drifted to another woman who had just entered the shop from the back. I did a double take, literally shaking my head as I squinted her way. Holy fucking shit. Genny Shepherd walked into the room, and she looked pissed. I knew I’d seen Amber’s face somewhere before. I just couldn’t tell through all that makeup, but sure as hell, she was Genny’s sister. My ex girlfriend. I swallowed as Genny stormed toward me, her heels clicking on the ground, and I swear I saw venom coming out of her eyes. Even though she hadn’t said a word, I knew that look. Whereas Amber had not moved me one iota in the romantic sense, I felt my whole body overcome with a reflexive attraction for Genny. She was the physical opposite of her sister. Genny was slight of build, with light brown hair and a medium stature. Tonight, she wore jeans and a pink v-neck T-shirt. But it wasn’t her body that turned me on the most after all these years. That would be the fire burning in her green eyes

as she quickly approached me in the store. “You’ve got some fucking balls to show up here after what you did,” she seethed. I rocked back on my heel. Calm, cool, and collected. “Your family still owns this place?” I asked, completely disregarding her question. “I didn’t expect to see you, to be honest.” Glaring at me with her sexy green eyes, she bared her teeth. “You still don’t like actual conversations. I’m not surprised. You really haven’t changed a bit.” I shrugged. “What can I say.” Shaking her head, she continued. “I told you all of the ways you are not allowed in my life at all. No phone calls, no emails, no social media, and definitely no house calls.” Taking a deep breath, I sighed. “Two things. One, I’m glad to see you’ve clearly moved on after all these years,” I said, my tone biting and sarcastic. “So much so that I still have an effect on you. Is your boyfriend getting jealous or something?” “There’s no effect,” she growled through her teeth. Though at the same time, she touched her hair. It’s those subtle signs of attraction you have to look out for. “And I don’t have a boyfriend. Here’s a number two for you. Get out.” I smirked at her, because I was now completely sure I was having the same effect on her as she was

on me. And the detail about not having a boyfriend was closely noted. Some attractions never die out, and this one was currently hitting me in the face with the force of a thousand suns. The attraction was spreading to other parts of my body, too. I pushed those feelings down, though, because this was nothing but a chance encounter between old exes. Rekindling that flame was something neither of us were interested in. Sure it was hot, but it was a recipe for disaster at the same time. I didn’t waiver. “Number two. A house call? What on earth are you talking about? You’re dreaming. I stopped by this shop because it was one of the few places with the lights still on tonight, and I needed to charge my phone. Come on. I may be an asshole, but I wouldn’t appear in front of you after all these years just to stir up shit.” “Oh,” she said, her tone took one step down from ‘angry as hell’ and headed toward ‘mildly aggressive’. “I’m sorry to hear about your brother and everything. My condolences.” “Thanks,” I said with a mindless shrug. “We weren’t that close since we were kids. You know that. It’s a little weird being back here, though. As soon as my phone is charged I can call his friend and get the keys to his place. That’s where I’m staying tonight.” “Oh, I see.” Her tone softened another level,

and fuck if I didn’t have flashbacks to the good times in high school. Riding around in her parents’ car on the country roads, no destination in mind. Sneaking into the local pool late at night and going skinny dipping. Late night make-out sessions in her basement while her Dad checked on us every ten minutes. “So what’s your family up to these days?” I finally asked, noticing that my day-dreaming mid conversation was making for an awkward pause. She put her hands on her hips and put one leg in front of the other; that awkward pose girls sometimes make. I couldn’t tell if she was relaxed or just plain anxious. “My parents retired to Florida. They left me in charge of all this,” she said. She put her palms out like she was Vanna White, showcasing all of the products around the store. I nodded. “Oh wow. Big boss lady now. So business is good, I take it?” Rubbing the back of her neck, she cleared her throat. “Never better,” she croaked. “That’s good to hear. You were always the smart one.” “Was I?” “That’s how I always saw it. I mean, that’s why I was so attracted to you. You know that.” The phrase ‘so attracted’ hung in the air, and I

could see the reaction on her face change from neutral to something else. Her lips parted and she stared at me with those fire-green eyes, like something was about to come out, but she said nothing. “I know I was an asshole,” I added. “I never stopped thinking about you, though. I wanted you to know that.” Turning her head, she called to her sister, who was now sitting on a stool chewing gum and waiting for my phone. “Hey Amber, that phone charged yet?” “It’s at thirteen-percent.” “Come on,” I said with a grin. “At least get me to twenty-five.” She glanced at me again, and I saw a heaviness in her eyes. They were glossed over, the green fire temporarily gone. “Hey Genny,” I said, taking a step closer to her. I put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go grab a drink tonight at Duke’s. Talk about things. Clearly, there are some unresolved tensions rising up between us.” “Kade,” she whispered. Hearing my name on her lips with a hint of vulnerability made my body fire with desire. The way she sounded flashed me back to some of the fondest experiences of my short life. Kade, that feels good.

Kade, keep doing that. Kade, I’m going to come. I swallowed and let my eyes drink her in some more. But the second part of her phrase wasn’t one of my favorites. Actually, it was right around my least favorite. “I told you I never wanted to talk to you or see you again, and that’s the truth. You’re only staying for a few days. What’s the point? We shouldn’t get attached. Seems like both of us are getting on just fine.” She lowered her eyes to the ground as she said the last words. I examined her face for any trace of an entry point for me to break her down. I would wait here all night for another shot at those cherry red lips, bright and natural. But I also knew when I wasn’t welcome. “Alright,” I growled simply. I was irked, but who could blame her? I’d pulled the biggest asshole maneuver ever by leaving her for the military. My track record was damn awful. “Twenty percent!” Amber screeched from the corner, holding up my phone. “I think that’s good enough,” Genny said, walking to the outlet. She unplugged my phone and handed it to me. “By the way,” she added, sadness in her eyes. “Good luck with the baby. That’s so tragic it won’t grow up with it’s real parents.”

“Um, what?” I scoffed. “What baby?” “Oh,” she squinted. “How close were you with your brother these last few years?” “We didn’t even speak.” “You didn’t hear about the baby?” I gripped my phone a little harder and felt my chest tighten. “They had a baby?” “Yeah. Six months or so ago, I think.” She reached a hand out to my forearm, and warmth flowed through my body when I remembered just how tender she could be. “I’m...an uncle,” I said out loud, swallowing excessively at this new news. She smiled as she looked at her watch. “So sorry to kick you out, but we’re closed. Good luck with that.”

3

GENEVIEVE

“O

h, you go right to hell, six-A.M., You’re not the boss of me. I’ll be as useless and tired as I want to be!” I growled at my angry red alarm clock, then sighed at the early morning hours slowly ticking by. I sleeplessly rolled in my shitty little cot trying, and failing, to get comfortable like a stressed out Seven Eleven hot dog. I hadn’t slept at all since my surprise visit from Kade last night. I was no stranger to late nights and tired days since I took over Shepherd Soaps. Usually, I couldn’t sleep because of the crippling anxiety of bills and the future of my family’s legacy, and worries of generally being a failure at something I cared about more than anything else. But now that Kade was back, he was all I could think about. So, yeah, I guess being angry and stressed out

about an all new thing was a welcome change of pace then. God, I was tired. My suppliers were coming over in a few hours to give me an update on my aloe vera shipment. A text would’ve been fine, but my parents warned me that Copa farms had a very old-fashioned way of doing things. I’d dealt with them before, a few times, but not with an order this big. It was ten times the amount I usually ordered for the soap. I always got super anxious when that much money left my account, especially because this was all such a gamble. “Nothing’s ever a sure thing. Sometimes you just gotta let your heart decide and go for it.” I punched my fists into my sad excuse for a bed as Kade’s advice crept into the back of my mind. I hated that I was following his advice from when we were in high school. I hated that he was back at all. But most of all, I hated myself for never getting over him - yet. It’d been years! This time when I rolled over and looked out the window I saw the sky getting lighter. My alarm read seven A.M. Another whole hour just thinking in circles. The worst part of this sleepless night was reliving the flood of my favorite experiences with Kade. My first and best memory was at a Junior/Senior Winter dance. He saved me from

Fred Adams, the cockiest, and weirdly-sweatiest guy in the whole school. Kade, who I’d always had a little crush on but never actually spoken to, saw how uncomfortable I was by the beach ball’s worth of space I was keeping between me and Fred while we were dancing and how Fred was getting ready to make his big move. Instead of asking to cut in with me, Kade swooped in and started dancing with Fred. Kade even leaned in for a big kiss and everything! Fred shoved him away, but was so embarrassed that he didn’t bother me for the rest of the night. I shared the nip of vodka I stole from my older sister with Kade and we danced like maniacs for the rest of the night. Kade once texted me in the middle of the night asking if I wanted to go grocery shopping with him. He told me he was just looking for an excuse to use his new driver’s license, but when he showed up driving his father’s truck with a black eye and bloody lip I knew there was more to the story. I found out later it was because his parents were having an especially bad fight, and that his dad was arrested again. We climbed on top of the high school that night, throwing cheese puffs into each other’s mouths and planning out our futures. While I only ever wanted to take over my family business and make them proud, Kade was dauntless in his aspirations. He was going to be a fighter pilot, then an astronaut, then the President, and then create an

app that was going to change the world. His future was limitless and he was athletic enough to beat the hell out of anyone who said otherwise. The memories flooded back so vividly. My whole body was flushed with a comfortable warm glow when I thought of all the fun I had with Kade growing up. I loved how ambitious and flexible he was with his dreams. His ever-evolving goals served him, not the other way around. Despite the hard family life, he used to be so full of life and adventure. Those memories were a dangerous high, like eating your weight in Halloween candy, only to feel disgusting and ashamed when the inevitable sugar crash sets in. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The loud pounding jolted me awake from a sleep that I didn’t realize I was even in. At some point I must’ve transitioned into dreaming about Kade and didn’t even know it. The light streaming in from the window was blinding. When my eyes adjusted I saw that it was quarter past three in the afternoon! KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. “Genevieve Shepherd! Are you in there?” Came a sharp, irritated voice from outside. Copa Farms was here! Crap! Crap! Crap! Super professional, Genevieve. You slept through

your meeting with the most influential family in all of southern Texas! “Coming!” I yelled back as I half rolled, half fell out of my cot. I was so dazed, racing through the shop to the door, that I somehow managed to crash into things that weren’t even remotely in the way. “Hello,” I said, swinging the door open wide. I was met by the scowling, impatient expression of the old couple who owned Copa farms. Even on their best days their faces always had a classical severity to them, but it was far more pronounced when they were annoyed. At nearly a hundred years old, Aggie wore her tightly-set grey hair up and featureless sundress long. Marshal wore a broad bowler hat that had to be an antique that was never properly retired, a colorless undershirt, button down, and a dusty blazer over his denim overalls. With all his layers, he was obviously impervious to the mid-afternoon heat. They both looked as if they walked straight out of a dour, dog-eared civil war photograph; back before the concept of smiling was invented. “I’m so sorry about-” I started to apologize, but when I opened my mouth I was interrupted by one of my apparently incredibly noisy, steel, mixing bowls behind me falling off a shelf in the shop. It wasn’t alone either. The bowl I bumped into during

my mad dash decided to invite all its friends to fall to the ground as well. If you looked up the word “professional” in a dictionary I’d be listed as the antonym. There’d be a picture of me wincing against the prolonged clattering of metal equipment hitting concrete floors. A full, agonizing, minute later, the stars aligned and I was finally allowed to speak. “I’m so sorry about the delay. I was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep, then apparently slept too much and-” “What time is it, Marshal?” Aggie said, cutting me off. Aggie hadn’t bothered to turn toward toward her husband when she asked the question, instead she looked me over with the scathing scrutiny of a jeweler analyzing a diamond she was almost certain was fake. “Three-fifteen,” Marshal replied. His eyes disapprovingly flashed at my nipples poking through the faded, threadbare shirt. Only then did I realize I was braless, wearing just a loose-fitting T-shirt--one I stole from Kade in high school naturally--and plaid pajama bottoms. I immediately crossed my arms, feeling horrified. I was not, as Mom would say, dressed for success. “Again. I’m very sorry. I can explain. There was a surprise visitor last night.” Running across the cold concrete floor had rippled a shiver through me and made my nipples hard enough to cut glass. “And what time was our appointment with the

new Miss Shepherd?” Aggie asked with surgical efficiency. Really? The apologetic expression drained from my features as I deepened my crossed arms. Are we really doing this whole thing? I shouldn’t have been late and that was one hundred percent on me, but it was only fifteen minutes. Let’s be real here. Of course, I didn’t say any of that. I waited patiently and nodded solemnly for another five minutes as they lectured me on the importance of timeliness, work ethic, and how it carries over into all aspects of my life. I even went so far as to thank them, granted through gritted teeth, which they fortunately didn’t pick up on. When the tirade was over, I invited them inside and made them their favorite tea while I changed into some real people clothes. Not because I wanted to, but because it’s just what was expected. Without their product to turn into soap, Shepherd Soaps wouldn’t exist. This was a very small town. Marshal and Aggie Copa had been supplying our family with aloe for three generations, and their son was the mayor. As frustrating as it was to go through all these formalities, when you have roots that deep with your only supplier, things had to be done a certain way. We kept a Copa cabinet in the shop for when they came over. It was stocked with their favorite tea, snacks, and even the mugs they liked. They

were extremely particular. I participated as little as possible during the mandatory small talk portion of our visit. I’d sat in with my parents enough times during these meetings to know that it was bad form to dive right into business. The Copa’s views on current issues were so archaic, morally strict, and narrow minded, that I didn’t feel comfortable doing much more than just nodding and shrugging. I didn’t agree with them on any topic, but I needed to keep things as civil as possible. “We wanted to let you know that despite your unprecedented increase in demand,” Aggie started, only after having me refill her mug with more boiling water. “The first half of your shipment of aloe will still arrive on time.” “Well that’s good to hear.” I sighed with relief. There was a very real possibility that they might not have had a big enough yield this year to cover what I was asking for. “It’s good to see that Shepherd Soaps is finally righting the ship. We haven’t gotten an order this big since your grandfather ran things,” Marshal said, clearing his throat and waving off my attempt at refilling his glass. “Yup. Things are finally looking up for us.” I cleared away the snacks, emptied the plates of trash, and generally tried to start wrapping things up so I could go do literally anything other than talk

to them any longer. “Well, thanks for coming by, it’s been a pleasure.” “There’s still the matter of payment to discuss,” Aggie stated flatly, refusing to budge from her chair. “Wait, what?” I asked, getting caught completely off guard. Their saucer and teacups in my hands rattled from my sudden stop. I turned to face them fully, searching their expressions for hints that they’d suddenly developed some kind of sense of humor. I was regarded with stoic, humorless stares. “I paid you the ten thousand dollars up front. That’s what we agreed on.” “The price has tripled unfortunately,” Marshal said with the passive disinterest of reading the weather forecast. “You owe us another twenty thousand dollars.” “Excuse me?” One of the teacups slipped off the saucer and smashed against the floor, peppering my feet. That drew a deepened scowl from Marshal as that was his cup that was destroyed. “Some of the equipment is getting a little long in the tooth, so we need to raise the prices while we update a few things.” Marshal’s frown at the shattered cup dissolved when he looked back up at me. “You understand.” “No, actually, I do not.” I scoffed. My patience was wearing extremely thin. Maybe mom and dad could’ve handled this better but they weren’t here.

It was just me, and I couldn’t afford the ludicrous price hike. “We have a contract.” “We shredded that when we decided to raise the price.” Aggie waved away the thought of a contract like it was an unnecessary nuisance or a passing trend. “What?” I set down the plate and balled my fists, now I was angry. “You can’t just change the amount after we agreed on it. I can’t afford an extra twenty thousand dollars!” I really couldn’t. I had taken out a bank loan for the exact amount I needed. I actually tried to take out a little more just in case something like this came up, but I didn’t have the credit history for it yet. I was lucky to get what money I did. “You watch your tone, Missy.” No, you old hag. Instead I said “What you’re doing is illegal. I’ll go to...” “Who exactly?” Aggie cocked her head, everso-slightly this time, waiting for my sentence to peter off on its own before speaking. The rest of her frail, elderly frame staying still as a statue. She didn’t need to elaborate to finish the threat. I’d lived here my whole life, I knew what she was going to say. Her son was the mayor. My mouth hung open. Of all the hurdles and obstacles I was going to face by taking over the family business, I did not see this coming. Was I

really being shaken down by geriatrics? Even if I could somehow get my money back from the Copas, which wasn’t at all likely, it was too late in the season to find a different supplier. That wasn’t even mentioning all the surprise town inspectors that would suddenly come knocking on my door if I did somehow find another farm to buy from. The air left my lungs in a puff which slouched me a bit. It was a small town. I didn’t have many options. “We understand the unexpected news might be difficult to process for someone of your temperament. Because of our long history with your family, we’ll still allow the delivering of the first half-shipment on time.” Aggie slowly rose from her seat and took her husband’s arm for stability. In no rush, they started for the exit casually calling out behind them, “We will, however, expect the remainder of the money soon. Have a blessed day.” I sank into the chair at the register after the AARP mafia let themselves out. I had ten thousand saved in my personal bank account, but that was everything I had. That was the last of my safety net and that still left me ten thousand dollars short. What the hell was I going to do now? “Harsh.” Amber strolled out of the shop munching on the dry cereal I had squirreled away

in my office. I took a deep breath and hunched forward in the chair, letting the ever-present invasion of privacy slide. I apparently needed to find a new hiding spot for the little amount of food I kept for myself. “How much of that did you hear?” I asked. Grinding my elbows into my knees, I rubbed a budding migraine out of my temples. “Enough to hear that 20k price increase.” Amber whistled, shaking her head. “That’s just rude. Twenty grand is a lot of money.” If you were right there why didn’t you come out and help me? I choked back the swelling hyperventilation of stress that abruptly washed over me and put on the friendliest face I could muster. Ignoring the fact that she hadn’t lifted a finger to do any real work here since our parents retired, or the fact that she stole my food and clothes constantly, or the fact that I paid all her utilities and didn’t ever hassle her for rent while I slept in a cramped office. “Amber. Things are really hard for the business right now.” Looking at her with vulnerable, upturned eyes I pleaded with her from one sister to another. I was out of options and I was scared. This was bigger than our sibling rivalry, we needed to come together to save our family’s legacy. “I need help. I can’t do this alone. Do you have any money

saved up?” “Are you joking?” Amber raised an eyebrow and openly scoffed at the question. “I’m the older sibling, but our parents gave you everything. I wouldn’t even have gotten us into this mess.” “You-” The saliva in my mouth turned to lava, scorching me so much that I began to shake. I was stupid to open myself up to her. She’d never helped me before, why would she start now? “You would’ve sold everything our parents built before their plane landed in Florida.” “At least then we’d have made some money out of all this bullshit.” She narrowed her eyes and flippantly gestured around the store. “This bullshit paid your way through both the colleges you dropped out of to pursue your ‘lifestyle’ channel on YouTube.” I spat the words through gritted teeth, rising from my chair. Which was ridiculously disingenuous. I saw some of her videos. They were all lies about how glamorous her life was. She had a knack for green screen and editing, but that was all she could do. That and lie to people. “I have twelve thousand subscribers.” The superior, cocky tone flowed so naturally from Amber that I had to wonder if she was ever invested in this family. “You have a dying soap store.” “At least this is real.” I snapped. “How would

your fans like to know that you live rent free in your parents’ house because you can’t hold down a job to save your life? This money situation is a big deal, it impacts everything we’ve ever known.” “Whatever.” She dismissed everything and plunged her perfectly manicured nails noisily into my cereal box. “You’re the responsible one. Figure it out.” If I were Supergirl, red lasers would’ve shot out of my eyes at how heated I was. But I wasn’t, so I had to settle with snatching the cereal box away from her, and turning to leave. I never wanted to accept just how much of a selfish, self-serving bitch Amber was, she was still my only sister...but if nothing else I couldn’t be around her right now. “Oh, real mature!” She protested, impotently stomping one of her heels on the ground. “Where are you going?” “Some place that has alcohol.”

4

KADE

T

he officer held my brother’s picture in front of me and I nodded. “That’s him.” It seemed like an overly ridiculous formality to have to identify my own brother, but it had been ten damn years since I saw him. The picture sent chills down my spine. It was him and his wife, my sister in law, who both died in the car crash. The officer, a peppery gray haired old man, fixed his moustache as he spoke. “Jax didn’t leave much, but he did leave that house not completely paid off. It’s being transferred to your name, your choice what to do with it.” I nodded. “The body is being take care of,” he added. “Jax did leave life insurance to cover that cost, and the ashes of him and his wife will be with you by next week.”

“And what about the baby?” “The baby. Yes, you are his next of kin, and she was an orphan with no living relatives that she cared to put on her will. So, according to what the will shows, this baby is completely 100% yours. You’ll have to figure out what to do.” The hairs at the back of my neck stood up for that one. Over the last eight years, I’ve taken care of young men in the field of combat. I’ve been through some insane situations, but taking care of a baby? That was something I never fathomed I’d have to do. I blew out a breath of air and let my eyes drift to the officer’s face. “You seem a little bit surprised about this one,” he said. “Yeah, surprise is a mild word for what I’m feeling right now,” I answered. My chest churned with anxiety. A whole other human being was around and I was now in charge of him? Her? I didn’t even know if it was a boy or girl.

I HEADED to the hospital with the documents in hand that the police officer had given me to pick up the baby. Apparently, they were both en route to

the hospital when the fatal accident occurred. “Hi, I’m Kade Houston.” I said to the nurse at the front desk. “I’m here to pick up…” I glanced down at the piece of paper and read the name. “Emma Houston.” Saying her name made my chest tingle. The little baby girl had my last name. “Ah yes, Mr. Houston, we’ve been waiting for you. I’m Nurse Kendra.” “You’ve been waiting?” “Yeah, we don’t see a lot of cases like this as you must imagine. Both parents dead in an accident. It’s really quite tragic. We’ve all been praying for her at the hospital.” “Praying for her?” I asked. I wasn’t religious these days. I hadn’t set foot in a church for over a decade. Yet, I still felt my heart slightly touched by those words. “Thank you for taking care of her,” I croaked, my throat getting a little bit gravelly. “Let me lead you to the room where we are keeping her,” the nurse said, getting out from behind the desk. “By the way, thank you for your service.” She said, glancing at the dog tag around my neck. “Oh, that,” I said, stuffing them back into my Tshirt. “Just doing my duty.” “My father served as well,” she added as we came up on the maternity wing. Opening a door, she led us to a room full of babies. Some crying,

many sleeping. We stopped in front of a tiny little sleeping baby. Kendra pointed. “This is Emma,” she sung, smiling. She was sleeping soundly in her little tiny bed thing. I watched as her chest rose and fell, barely moving. “She’s so tiny,” I remarked. “Heh,” She chuckled. “Babies usually are. It’s about feeding time for her. So, I should probably wake her up or someone will.” “Are you...assigned to the maternity wing?” I asked, scrunching up my face. She laughed and shrugged. “It’s a small hospital, so we kind of do double duty here. Plus, with this one, oh my goodness gracious, she’s just so adorable. You’re a lucky one, Mr. Houston.” Kendra glanced at me and look down at the baby again. Just as she did, the baby stirred in her sleep, making the slightest moaning noise. God damn she was cute. “Hey, oh that-a-girl. Can you tell your Uncle Kade is here?” she spoke to the baby. A flush of warmth went through my entire body. Uncle Kade. When she said those words I couldn’t really believe it. This was my own kin sitting right in front of me. The baby moaned again and then opened her

eyes, wiggling her little arms and legs. I was instantly mesmerized by their beautiful glossy brown color. “Oh yeah, you’re up aren’t you?” The nurse continued talking to Emma. “Okay.” I said. “So, what happens now?” “Oh, well you got to just pick her up for a little bit. Here.” She picked up the baby like it was nothing. I still couldn’t get over the fact that it was so damn tiny. She held out the baby, offering her to me. “You should get a hold of this thing. Try it out.” I swallowed. Staring at this little girl. This little baby girl. I hesitated, because, what did this mean? If I held her, would that mean that somehow she’d become more mine? I would get attached to her. What the hell was I going to do about all this anyway? I never really even liked my brother. Then again, it wasn’t this baby’s fault she was born. I hesitated, freezing up. My jaw tightened as I stared at the baby. She cried, and Kendra held the baby to her chest. “There, there now. There, there. Are you going to be okay? Yes, you are.” She patted the baby’s back ever so lightly. But the little girl would not stop crying. “Oh, c’mon. It’s okay.” She hummed and spoke to the baby. “Here.” I finally growled. “I’ll try. It’s alright

baby girl.” I took her in my arms and felt the vibrations of the baby’s cries against my chest. The nurse giggled at me. “What?” “You’ve never held a baby, have you?” “No.” “You have to...Here, let me help you. Change your hands around.” She moved my hands so they were gripping with one hand supporting the back and another arm underneath the butt. “Yeah, that’s probably better.” I said. “You are ridiculous,” she chided, but by the time she said that, the baby stopped crying. She was breathing softly against my chest. I looked at her to see if her eyes are open because I thought she might have fallen asleep. She hadn’t. She was just resting her head softly, silently against my chest. “It’s going to be alright Emma.” I told her. “Everything’s going to be alright.” I meant it too, even though I hadn’t the slightest idea how. I picked the baby up, now confident that I was about to be the best uncle ever. I started walking towards my car. “Hey?” Kendra called from just outside the automatic doors of the hospital. “Don’t you need something?” “Like what?” I say. “Well, have you ever driven with a baby?”

“It’s been a while,” I shrugged. Some of my friends on the military base had babies, but I wasn’t exactly an expert. “Oh, I don’t know. Do you have the things that you need for the baby?” “Like what?” “Um, you need diapers.” She said, listing them off. “And you also need a car seat.” “Where do I get that?” “Okay, um, here I tell you what. I will loan you my car seat that’s hanging out in the back of my van.” “Oh, that’s not necessary.” I said. “Well, do you have another idea for how to get this baby home? You can’t just carry the baby in a car.” “Good point.” I said. “Alright, fine. I guess I will take that car seat and bring it back to you as soon as I’m done. I guess that’s the benefit of living in a small town right?”

5

KADE

A

s I drove home, I looked at all the sites from my childhood; the old high school, the pool where Genny and I once skinny dipped, made out under the slide, and then snuck out just before the cops arrived.... Fun times. Seeing her yesterday reminded me just how strong our connection had been. As soon as I left for the military though, she wasn’t having me. Her best friend’s fiance had cheated on her in the military, and she cried when she told me we couldn’t stay together. It was tragic, sure, but such was the fate of many high school relationships. So why, eight years later, was I still not over her? Even before I’d been called suddenly to town, she flashed through my dreams, haunting me. On

that last night together, we’d kissed one more time. I wanted just one more night together, with her, under the stars. She turned me down. I clamped my hand down harder on the steering wheel, as the town went by. Brown and grey were the overwhelming colors, with a little bit of green mixed in. I narrowed my eyes and focused on the road. The fact was, this week didn’t matter. I was a man on a mission. I needed to take care of my brother’s things, find a home for the baby, and get the hell out of dodge- no attachments, no hookups, and I’d be out of here in a jiffy. I’d never come back. Genny looked damn good last night, though. If her sister hadn’t been there, I would have shown her what it felt like to be with a real man now, not no eighteen year old boy. I would have-I slapped myself across the face to snap myself out of the daydream. It didn’t matter how hot Genny looked. She didn’t want me back, and there was nothing I could do about that. I was lying to myself if I was thinking I didn’t want her back, though. The baby began to cry, and I snapped away from my daydream. I needed a plan. For starters, I’d stop calling her Emma in my head, because I was already getting attached. If I just called the

baby, Baby, then it would be easier to distance myself. Because let’s be honest here: I could not take care of a baby. I just re-upped my military contract for another four years, and I wasn’t going to be in town. So, what was there left for me to do here? Just call her Baby, that’s what I would do. “You’re gonna be fine, Baby,” I said. She cried as I unbuckled her car seat and brought her into my brother’s house. It was a small one-bedroom located in the country. It was mostly isolated, although he did have a couple of neighbors fifty feet on the other side of his house. My house. I needed to decide what I was going to do with that. The house and the baby, and his ashes. God damnit! There’s so much to think about. I sighed as I unbuckled the baby’s car seat. Part of it got stuck. “How the fuck do you work this thing?” I growled. You could swear in front of babies, right? They can’t understand anything. Still, I rephrased. It just didn’t feel right. “Sorry, Em--I mean, Baby. Sorry about the language. I meant to say, how the heck do I work this thing?” I said as the baby wailed. “Oh, Baby don’t do that now. C’mon.” I undid the car seat, and I realized as I brought her in that my first order of business had to be getting rid of this baby. Well, getting rid of it was a strong term. I

needed to give the baby to some family who could really take care of her in all the ways I couldn’t. Luckily, my brother and his wife had a list of names in an old-fashioned style phonebook. I went down the list, calling every single person. “Hi!” I said, after dialing one number. “Ah, yeah? Can I help you? I don’t take sales calls, man.” “Wait!” I said stopping him. “This isn’t a sales call. It’s about Jax Houston.” “Jax Houston passed away.” “I know. I’m his brother,” I explained. “Oh, alright. My condolences.” A chill went down my spin. It didn’t feel right accepting ‘condolences’ for a man I hadn’t seen in years. “So, you were his friend. You worked with him, right?” I told the person. “Yeah,” he said. “We worked together at the dealership.” “Okay. Well, it turns out that he had a baby too. And I was just wondering...” “Wondering? What, about the baby?” “I was wondering if you would consider adopting the baby?” Dead silence on the phone. ‘You’re serious?” the man huffed. “Look, it’s a crazy situation. I know. I’m beside myself. I don’t know what to do.”

“Look man. I’ve got five kids of my own to feed. I’m gonna give you some advice. Just call child services and put the baby up for adoption. You ain’t gonna find no parent cold calling.” He hung up the phone. I tried a few more calls and they went similarly. But, I’m not one to give up. For the next hour or so, I went through the phone book, calling every single person that I knew that had any remote connection to me or to Jax. No dice. The baby, still sitting on the couch in the car seat, giggled. “What’s so funny, Baby? You think my phone calling skills are comical?” I sighed. “Well, if it was a SEALs mission, I’d be kicking astail, but this is way above my pay grade.” I had so much other stuff I had to take care this weekend. I had to make sure the arrangements were handled. Then I had to meet with the lawyers to finalize the will and also, apparently, carry this baby around with me wherever I went. I crossed my arms and glanced down at her. She was pretty freaking cute. She giggled again. “Stop being so cute, Baby,” I grumbled. Again, she giggled. I resisted playing peek-aboo. “Don’t get attached,” I reminded myself, saying it soft enough so the baby couldn’t hear me. I pulled out my phone and googled babysitters in the area. I found a list of a couple. But, then I

hesitated. These were high school aged girls. Sure, they were good and probably responsible, but would they really have what it takes to take care of a very young, very needy baby? I didn’t know. And I was getting more stressed out by the minute. Normally, I wasn’t a huge stress drinker. But today, I couldn’t help it. “Alright, Baby,” I said. “We’re going for a ride.” I buckled her back in the car seat and brought her to the liquor store. When I got out, I thought about leaving her in the car, but then I quickly shot that down. I might be trying not to get attached, but hell if I was letting Baby out of my sight. I took her out of the car seat, slinging her to my one arm and she kind of fit nicely; I was starting to get a hang of this holding baby thing. The door rang as I went inside the liquor store. I quickly moved to the hard liquor section, which was going to be necessary given the degree of stress I was going through right now. Emma started to cry again. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Baby,” I said, patting her back. Still, she continued to cry. “We’ll be out of here in no time, Baby.” As I scanned the shelf for my liquor of choice, I bumped into someone right next to me. “Hey, will you please be careful. I have a baby on board,” I said, irritated.

I looked down into her beautiful green eyes, and my heart started to stomp like mad. “I think you better be the careful one. Shouldn’t you have a sling for that baby? Instead you’re just carrying her around like a bowling ball.” “Genny, what the fuck are you doing here?” I growled. “What does anyone do here? What are you doing here? Getting some booze for your baby?” I shrugged. “A little whiskey might calm her down. That’s what my parents used to give me. But no, this is for me,” I said as I grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey. The baby started to cry, her screams getting even louder. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got your hands full.” “What about you?” I said over the noise of the baby’s cries. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be, you know, at your shop? Isn’t this a busy time for people buying soap or whatever during the Christmas rush?” She sighed. “The store is being taken care of right now okay? And I've had a stressful day myself." When she heaved a stressed exhale, I sensed this wasn’t just a stressful day of ‘couldn’t decide which flavor ice cream to buy.’ Something was really eating at her.

"I hate to see you so stressed," I sighed. The baby kept crying in my arms. "Damn Genny, I don't even know what I'm going to do this week about her. I have a bunch of stuff to take care of, aside from the baby." "You couldn't find a babysitter?" "I looked. I don't really trust a high schooler with a tiny baby, you know." "May I?" She asked, holding out her hands for the baby. I handed her over, and she took her quite naturally. It was much different than the way I'd first taken her when Kendra had given Emma to me. "Aww, you're a good girl. Such a good little girl," she said, rocking her. "What's your name?" "Emma," I interjected. "Well Emma, you're so cute. And you're lucky to have the best uncle a girl could ever want. He's going to protect you from now on." I hated, and I loved, watching Genny with the baby. I loved it because it warmed my heart to see her love. And hated because I knew this was a temporary thing. And Genny was making me say the baby's name. "You're great with her," I reluctantly admitted as she lulled the baby quickly into a peaceful state. She shrugged. "I wish I was as good at business

as I was at calming babies." "Is that what's got you stressed?" "How'd you know?" "Just a feeling." Just then, I got a bright idea. "Hey Genny. This might sound crazy, but I'm serious." "Oh?" she arched an eyebrow over the baby's shoulder and looked at me. "Yes. I was thinking. What if you watch the baby this week for me?" She flashed a fleeting smile that quickly disappeared. "Look, Emma's cute. But I've got a million things on my mind right now. And I'm not about to add a baby to that list, no matter how cute she is." I scrubbed a hand across my jaw. "But Genny, there's no one else." "What do you mean? This town has plenty of qualified babysitters." "None that I trust as much as you." Her face flushed over. "No. I've gotta put my foot down, Kade. We can't go down this road." "What road? I need a babysitter. You're the only one I can trust. Come on. I'll pay you." "I don't think seven dollars an hour is going to cut it anymore, I hate to break it to you." I considered my options for a minute. I didn't have the first clue on how I was going to watch

Emma all week. And I needed something more than just an hourly babysitter who could keep an eye on the baby. Hell, I hadn't even bought diapers yet. "How much?" I croaked, a little perturbed that I was in a position of such weakness in this negotiation. "How much what?" "I mean how much will you charge for your services for one week?" She tapped her nose. "One week?" I nodded. "Right. It's Monday. So now until this time next week, I need you." By then, I figured I'd have the baby adopted. That's how long these things took, right? "How about ten thousand dollars?" she smirked. "Ha-ha. Very funny." "I'm serious. If you would like my services, you will be owing me five figures. I'll be taking cash only." My jaw dropped. "Be reasonable, Genny. That's outrageous." She scrunched up her face. "Uh oh! Smell that?" I swallowed. "Is that what I think it is?" "Yep. that's the smell of a baby bowel movement. You know what, I'll be nice and head into the bathroom, and take care of this for you since I know you have no clue how to change a diaper. Just give me a fresh one."

"Ah, oh. About diapers..." Her jaw dropped, and then closed back up--a reaction to the smell. "Dear God, you don't even have fresh diapers?" I shook my head. "Alright, she's all yours then! I'm going to get my whiskey and head home," she added, holding Emma out for me to take. "Fine," I growled. "Excuse me?" "Fine. Ten thousand it is. Now can you help me get diapers?"

6

GENEVIEVE

C

radling and bottle feeding baby Emma, I strolled through both floors of Kade’s brother’s house; partly for the exercise and partly because she seemed to like the movement. It’d been a few days and I still wasn’t super comfortable here. Originally, I wasn’t going to move into Kade’s place, but the shop and my tiny office was a terrible place to take care of an infant. I’d be racked with worry that she’d fall into one of the giant mixing containers somehow. They were all closed so that’d be impossible, but everyone knew that babies were part magic, so I couldn’t completely rule it out. Besides, all of Emma’s baby supplies were here. I made Kade take us to his brother’s house before we went shopping to see what they already had.

Turns out, they, like most good parents, were fully stocked to take care of their infant. Kade had absolutely no idea how babies worked, which was begrudgingly adorable, so I gave him a quick Baby One-On-One class just in case there was an emergency. Nearly every room was covered in cardboard boxes. Maybe it was somehow due to his special forces training, but Kade was a machine when it came to packing and organizing. He had a very rigid system in place with basically three categories - trash, donations, and mementos for Emma which would go into a long-term storage. Fortunately, most of the photos of Emma and her parents had been packed away in boxes for long-term storage early on. I think Kade needed to get rid of those as quickly as possible to make everything else easier. I saw a few of the happy family before they disappeared. They were hard to look at, especially while holding Emma, and knowing that she was going to grow up never knowing her birth parents first hand. The whole thing was surreal. Thinking about it formed a pit in my stomach that left me with this cold, churning dread that was hard to explain. Even growing up I rarely ever saw Kade’s brother. He was several years older than us and hung out in different circles. In the last few years I bumped into Emma’s parents a few times at the store and post

office, and we made polite small talk. We were friendly, but we weren’t friends or anything. I didn’t even know them well enough to grieve for them. And now, even if it was only temporarily, I was taking care of their baby. How horrible was that? Ugh! I felt gross and needed a distraction, something to keep my mind busy. I browsed through the old pictures in Kade’s brother’s office on the second floor. It was the one room that had the most stuff from their childhood, which was probably why it was relatively untouched by Mr. Packing Machine. The only exception was a safe on the floor that Kade had been trying to get into, but wasn’t successful with yet. I sat in the plush computer chair and soothed the stirring baby. It was so hard not to be enamored with Emma, even considering how much she hated me being anything less than exhausted all the time. Emma flopped onto her back and kicked her feet in the air like she was riding a bicycle only she could see. I couldn’t help but chuckle at all her crazy adorable antics. She absolutely loved grabbing my finger. We played that game constantly. I think I loved it as much as she did. For a little ball of crying fat, Emma really was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen. She had so much of her father

in her, which also meant she looked a lot like Kade too. I was fooling myself when I thought this was going to be an easy ten-thousand-dollars. The longer I spent with Emma, the more attached I was becoming. I’d been so busy helping my family stay afloat that I’d never given much thought to having a family of my own. Last night was the hardest by far. Kade and I watched a movie on the loveseat, which was the last remaining piece of furniture in the living room. He put on this terribly cheesy sci-fi movie that his brother had in his collection, and it wasn’t long until we were laughing and making fun of it like we used to as kids. It’d been so long that I’d forgotten how good of friends we used to be. He wasn’t just handsome, he was also fun, goofy, and witty. After the stressful days we had gone through, both of us vegging out on the couch being silly was exactly what we needed. Emma, swaddled warm and safe in a blanket on my lap, had finally fallen asleep, and I wasn’t far behind. I don’t remember drifting off, but when I woke up my head was resting in the nook between Kade’s broad, muscular shoulder and his strong chest. He’d put an arm around me to help me sleep. We weren’t cuddling by any stretch, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t pretend to be asleep just to

stay there a little longer. Having that innocent, intimate connection with another person, especially one I used to care about more than anyone, was a powerful thing. The rational voice in the back of my mind screamed at me that this was a terrible idea, how getting attached was going to make everything so much worse, but I just couldn’t force myself to move. My head swayed slightly with his deep inhalations. His warmth blissfully soaking into my bones as I listened to him breathing. The scent of his skin flooded my senses like thick caramel with old, familiar, and cherished memories. Eventually, Emma stirred with a rapidly filling diaper, and my senses were suddenly filled with an unglamorous reality. I groaned, waking up for real this time, and untangled myself from Kade. Kade shrugged, giving me the room I needed to stand up. He probably thought I was annoyed I had to change her diaper. That wasn’t it at all. I didn’t mind taking care of Emma, in fact I’d kind of grown to like it. Growing a business was rewarding in it’s own way, but caring for a helpless little person made me feel…needed. I don’t know. Whole maybe? It was a strange feeling, one I was definitely not prepared for, but I really loved it.

I groaned when I got up because I knew that the fantasy world I’d been creating in my head these past couple of days, the one where Kade, Emma, and I were an actual family, was quickly coming to an end. The longer the week stretched on, the more I really didn’t want it to end. My mind switched back to the present as I rocked Emma, seeing her dopey grin made me smile wider than I had in such a long time. “Would this be what it would’ve been like if Kade had stayed?” I asked, looking into Emma’s gorgeous deep brown eyes - the same color as Kade’s. “You have his family’s infuriating wisebeyond-their-years calmness that can instantly turn into passion. Yes, you do. Yes, you do. Granted, in your case, that passion is either food or a clean diaper.” “To be fair, I think we both like our diapers clean,” Kade’s charcoal voice softly boomed from the hallway. “Goddamnit!” I whisper squeaked, startled. It was weird how with Emma in my arms, that despite being surprised, I was still able to keep my voice down so I didn’t scare her. Kade, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, was wearing the smuggest smile I’d ever seen. “What are you, part ninja?” “Maybe.” Kade shrugged casually, enjoying my

reaction. “You should’ve seen me in my Ninja Turtles footy-pajamas. I was a force to be reckoned with.” “I bet ten-year-old you was pretty fearsome.” I glanced down and rocked Emma to calm her after my outburst, all the while trying to suppress the budding smile that came from imagining an adorable little Kade karate kicking his way across a living room. “Ten-year-old-nothing.” Kade frowned, feigning being insulted. “I bought those pajamas last year.” I cocked an eyebrow at him in skeptical disbelief. “My unit threw a Halloween party.” Kade glanced away as his self-satisfied smirk flirted with actual bashfulness, but he quickly caught himself and smoothly recovered. “I was the not-so-teenage, mutant ninja SEAL.” “Yeah?” I chuckled. My overactive imagination painted the picture of him in his costume perfectly. “Which ninja weapon did you have?” “A M4A1 carbine rifle.” Kade winked at me, then glanced around the office and nudged himself off the doorframe. “I took the bullets out to make it fair.” There was a moment of hesitation in his body language before he walked in. I could tell that underneath his devil-may-care demeanor he had

some old scars that never healed properly. That’s probably why he hadn’t touched this room yet. Despite still being mad at him for abandoning me, it was impossible to not have sympathy for Kade. He and his brother had a complicated relationship, but they were still family. I couldn’t imagine what that loss must feel like. It being the Christmas season didn’t help either. “Hey. I know you haven’t had the chance to bring over any of your things so…” He said with a renewed joviality, reaching for something in his back pocket. I didn’t like that he soldiered through the hard emotions, but I let it go. The urge to help him swelled in me but I had to remind myself that we were barely friends again, let alone anything more than that. The harshness of that realization stung so much worse than it should’ve. We should’ve been so much more. “What’s this?” I asked when he handed me a CD. “It’s a...mix tape. I made for you about a million years ago, give or take.” He snorted and shook his head at the absurdity of the archaic gesture. “I was going through some boxes in the basement and found it.” “Seriously?” I took the disk with a reverence you’d only see in an Indiana Jones movie, when he

was grabbing an ancient artifact. I turned the case over and read out some of the hand-written song titles. “Oh my God. ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca’, ‘The Boy is Mine’, by Brandy and ‘Monica’, ‘Mambo Number Five’? Are you shitting me right now?” “I burned it myself in senior year. It had all your late nineties early two-thousands favorites. So of course, you’ll probably hate it now.” “Oh this is so happening. Tell me you have a CD player here somewhere.” My excited eyes flashed at Kade telling him that wasn’t a request. He took a deep breath, then nodded. Reaching over my head, high up on a shelf he pulled down a small boombox. Why his brother even still had this was beyond me. Kade wiped the dust off the top, and plugged it in. There was delay, but eventually the power light switched on and the nostalgic crackle of between stations white noise billowed out of the old round speakers. “Yay!” I quietly cheered as he put the disc in, and the Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air theme song started up. “Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down. And I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-air,” we sang in unison. Neither of us had thought about this show in nearly a decade, but the lyrics were hardwired into our DNA. It was basically

impossible for us not to sing along. Instantly, we were seventeen again. It was crazy how easy it was to get lost in that feeling with him. We listened -and occasionally even danced- to most of the CD when I realized my phone, which was set to vibrate so I wouldn’t disturb Emma, had been going off like crazy. Ten calls from a phone number that wasn’t in my contact list. Having no idea who was trying to reach me or why, I knew it couldn’t be good news. After listening to half of the dozen angry messages from the delivery driver about being given the wrong address and how this fucked up his schedule for the rest of the night, I called him back. This didn’t make any sense. I never would’ve made that mistake. My personal life was kind of a trainwreck, but I was always extremely thorough when it came to work. I handed Emma to Kade and stepped out into the hallway. Maybe it was because this was my work, or maybe it was because I was still trying to keep Kade at arms length, but I didn’t want him to hear me getting yelled at. When the driver was on the phone I tried apologizing for the weird mix up and asked how he could’ve possibly got the wrong address, but I couldn’t get a word in. I was called every derogatory name I’d ever heard and even some I hadn’t heard before. The guy refused to move an

inch without me being there in person to lead him to the shop. I had to step back into the office to hastily jot down the address of where the driver was. I told him I’d be there as soon as possible, before he hung up on me. I had tough skin, but that level of irrational anger was hard to deal with. I was a little shaken. “What’s going on? Who was that?” Kade’s expression darkened in a protective way that was almost endearing. “No one. Nothing. It’s just...” I stammered. For as much as I tried to bottle up my emotions they must’ve been written all over my face. “I know it’s not part of our agreement, but I have to step out for a few hours. Would you mind watching Emma?” “Who was that?” Kade snapped again, his eyes narrowing. I could tell that the budding anger simmering behind those dark brown eyes wasn’t aimed at me, but the hardened edge to his tone still startled me. “I can handle this,” I said, after taking a deep breath. I didn’t need Kade over the last eight years, and I didn’t need him now. This was all part of being the boss, owner...and only employee of my own business. Sometimes, I just had to deal with uncomfortable situations. “It’s just a delivery driver with the last of the equipment I need for the shop. It’s not a big deal. He’ll probably be calmed down by the time I get there.”

“Fuck that. I‘m coming with you.” Kade stood up and adjusted Emma to carry her more comfortably. “Kade, no.” I protested. Granted, it was a bit weak this time. If I was being honest, I liked the idea of having help with this, but I was just too proud to accept any. “This isn’t your problem.” “For the smartest person I’ve ever met, you’re awfully stupid sometimes.” Kade shook his head in disbelief. “Kade…” I frowned, but more at myself than at him. “If you don’t let me come with you I’m just going to follow you.” I didn’t have to like it, but he was right of course. Of all the people watching my back, I probably couldn’t do much better than a Navy SEAL. Besides, it wasn’t like I could possibly stop him anyways. “Fine.” I hung my head defeated, before snapping my eyes at him. “But only on one condition. You follow my lead. I do all the talking. OK?” My mind switched gears as I started figuring out all the baby gear we needed to bring. I had no idea how this was going to go down or how long it was going to take. I decided to plan for the worst and bring an overnight bag just in case. “Yes, ma’am.” Kade gave me a quick salute as

a smug smile crept across his face. “You’re the boss.”

7

KADE

M

y grip on the wheel tightened as I drove through the streets of Douglas. It was odd, the littlest things could bring back memories of Genny and I back in high school, back in the good old days when we thought a happy ending was possible. So young, and so naïve, but in those moments we were happy. I didn’t say anything as I continued driving towards the spot where Genny’s driver had apparently misdelivered a shipment. I was unsure how this was her fault, but at the same time, it didn’t matter. When you owned a business, you took full responsibility of your actions. If there was a problem, you answered to it. Honestly, it had a lot in common with what I did in the SEALs. If we had a problem, I didn’t try to play the blame game, or have someone else get in

trouble. I just took responsibility for it. And yeah, that meant I took the heat from the higher ups. Genny looked a little nervous as she sat in the front seat. Maybe nervous isn’t the right word, but definitely tense. The baby fell right to sleep as soon as we got in the car, in her car seat in the back. When I drove, I definitely had a heightened sense of security now that we had a baby on board. I cleared my throat. Genny looked so damn gorgeous as she sat there focusing on her phone, taking care of business. She had these intense eyes when she was truly in the zone. In the past, I had the benefits of those eyes being focused on me. Until the day I said goodbye and that I wasn’t coming back. The day I lost her. Yet, right now, as we rode together, I couldn’t shake the thought of what might have been if I’d stayed in Douglas. I came from nothing, and at age eighteen, my future didn’t look too bright. I probably wouldn’t have made much money if I’d stuck around here. I probably would have worked at one of the oil companies close by. Shit, maybe I could have worked my way up, made some money, and helped us have a happy family, with beautiful babies. Fuck! Genny and I would make beautiful babies. I stole a glance at her soft skin out of the corner of my eye as she twirled her long brown

hair. Not only would our babies be hot as hell, they would be smart as hell. God, the beautiful brown eyes they would have. “Kade? Kade? We passed the road. Didn’t you see the truck in the parking lot over there?” she asked me, raising her voice just slightly. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t see that.” “You are off in your own little world over there. What on earth are you thinking about?” “Oh pfft, nothing,” I shrugged. She put her hand on my shoulder and massaged me ever so gently. “Hey! It’s going to be alright. Okay? We’re gonna get through this. I don’t know what you must be thinking right now, with your brother and the baby, but we’re gonna help you through this. I’m here for you, as a friend.” She rubbed the back of my shirt gently, then surreptitiously grabbed my upper arm. “Wow, you really got jacked in the military, didn’t you?” “Ha ha,” I chuckled a little. “We haven’t seen each other that much in the last eight years. So, yeah. I’ve gone through some changes. Puberty, et cetera,” I winked. “Wow, just. Okay! I need to stop touching you. Okay, turn around.” She cleared her throat, doing her best to refocus. I narrowed my eyes and concentrated on the road. I spun the wheel around and we headed back to where the truck was. I could see the delivery guy

standing there smoking a cigarette, leaned up against his car. “Oh, stop here,” she said. “I need to get out and deal with this.” “Alright, you deal with it. I’ll hang. I’ll be your backup.” She laughed, “I don’t need any backup.” She got out of the car and walked over to the man who tossed out a cigarette. Of course, immediately after I stopped the car, the baby began to wake up and cry a little bit. “Oh, that’s okay now Emma,” I said, caressing her foot to comfort her. “Oh c’mon. Go back to bed. It’s going to be fine.” She didn’t heed my words. Clearly, she liked when the car was moving, but now that we’d stopped, she felt anxious. “Fine, I get it,” I said aloud. “I’m more comfortable in motion than when I’m staying put too.” I thought to myself. That’s actually a very big, real, existential statement for me to make. I was more comfortable jetting around to different spots in the US, in the world, than I was staying here. Yep, there was definitely a lesson in there. I took the baby out of her car seat in the back and picked her up. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” I said softly as I bobbed her up and down in my arms. Then, rolling down my window, I listened to the

interactions happening between Genny and the delivery man. They were making wild gesticulations as if they were negotiating something. “Now, look here,” the man said in a heavy twang. “This is the address on the damn sheet so this is where I took it. If you want me to deliver this somewhere else then that’s a side job. It’s gonna be an extra few grand. That’s how this negotiation is gonna work sweetheart.” “Don’t you sweetheart me,” she said like a little fireball. “I want you to bring these to my factory. This has all been a big misunderstanding, and trust me when I say I have the address right. It must’ve somehow been a mixup with your dispatch.” I held the baby close to my chest. My holding technique had substantially improved over the last few days. “Now, I don’t know what you think you did, but, your soap shop isn’t what’s on my sheet. So, I can’t deliver it. Alright lady? So, you know what? I’m just gonna drive these back to the supplier. I’m done with this. Unless you come up with three grand right now, and we make a deal, all this equipment is getting shipped back and you’re getting all sorts of fines for wasting my fucking time.” “No, no, no” she said, her voice sounding weaker. “Don’t do that.” Shit, she was getting strong armed in

negotiations by this motherfucker. “Alright, I am sick and tired of your shit, lady. Ain’t never seen a woman run no factory before. No wonder. Can’t even get her own damn address right.” “Excuse me?” Her jaw dropped at the incredibly sexist comment. She was getting flustered. Personally, I couldn’t believe my ears either. “Yeah,” he made a little wave on his hand. “You, don’t have the brains to run the factory. That’s plain to see. You can’t even get a simple address right. So, why would you be able to run a business of any kind? Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me.” In the car, my jaw tensed. Opening the car door, I stepped outside. Baby in hand, I started walking toward the two of them. “So,” the man said as he got into his truck, stepping in but not closing the door. “Now, I’m tired. It’s way after my shift, I’m gonna drive this truck back and you can go fuck yourself lady.” “Hey buddy,” I growled, seething. Shit, I was sounding a lot more like Batman than myself. “I think you need to deliver the order.” “Nahh,” he laughed at my face. “Yeah, I’m not delivering shit. I’m tired of y’all and I’m not having a very good day. So, if you’ll excuse me, I will be on my way.”

He went to close the door. Genny and I made eye contact, and I had a flashback to the time in high school when I had to kick some guy’s ass who was disrespecting her at a high school dance. I handed the baby to Genny and I grabbed the door before he could fully close it. “Not so fast,” I barked calmly. “God damn it!” he retorted. “Let me close the goddamn door!” “Why don’t you step out of the truck and talk about this. From what I can see, you’re being extremely difficult, this problem can be resolved in a very easy manner.” He laughed, “Why don’t you make me come down?” “Alright!” I growled. Grabbing him by the neck, I pulled him out. “What the fuck!” he cried as soon as he hit the ground. “You’re fucking insane man! Are you fucking insane?” “Listen buddy, I’m just trying to get all of this taken care of so we can have the shipment, and this is very important to me. If it’s not important to you, I think you probably shouldn’t be driving a truck.” “I ain’t gonna drive no truck over there. I’m not driving shit!” the man said, folding his arms. “Alright then” I shrug. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive the truck” Genny stared at me. Her eyes wide as she held

the baby who had stop crying now that she was in the arms of Genny. “No” the man said. “You can’t drive that.” “Listen buddy,” I said, taking a step closer to him. He was on his feet now but still looking pathetic. When I looked closer, his face was wrinkled and he had several grey hairs. “I’ve driven the following: cars, trucks, motorcycles, tractors, tanks, helicopters, and airplanes, and if you think that I’m not gonna drive this truck, and I’m not gonna get my way here? Well, you’re just sadly fucking mistaken. So, why don’t you just do as I say, and we won’t have any problems. Give me the keys, and I’ll drive the fucking truck.” “You want a fucking problem?” The guy said spitting on the ground. “I’ll give you a fucking problem.” With that, he lunged at my face. I grabbed his arm, twisted it, spun him around, and wedged him so his elbow was on the brink of breaking. “Fuck!” He screamed out in pain. “Jesus, take it easy!” Genny said, covering the baby’s ears. “So, are you gonna give me what I want yet?” I ask him. “Let go! Please!” I held him down. “Don’t hurt him,” she screamed at me. “Genny.” I growled. “Just let me take care of

this my way”. “This is ridiculous. This is the driver.” “Listen buddy.” I said, whispering in his ears. “All we need to do is deliver these to the new fucking address at no extra charge I don’t understand what the big issue is and why you’re being such a dick. But, I will tell you this. I’m a Navy SEAL, and I know ten different ways to snap your neck. I’m not gonna do that because I’m a nice guy, but you would be best advised if you catch my drift to take this shipment to where Genny needs it. Okay?” “Okay,” the guy managed to say. “Excellent! So, I can’t wait for these to get delivered. I expect you to bring it over right now.” I tightened my grip at the guy. “Just cut the crap, bozo.” He finally nodded, going along with me. I let go of him. He got up holding onto his arm. ‘Alright, I’m gonna follow you to where you gonna go.” “Don’t do anything funny.” I added. The baby still wasn’t crying and loved being in Genny’s arms, apparently. Genny was gripping her tight on her chest. I walked over to her. “Let’s go. I took care of your little problem.” “I know. I’m not sure how appropriate that was,” she protested. “You essentially, physically

assaulted the driver.” I shrugged. “Well, he shouldn’t have been such a douchebag.” She rolled her eyes, “You can’t just beat guys up because they’re being douchebags.” I squinted hard at her. “Let’s get back to the car, shall we? And, yes I can.” We got back in the car and the truck. Genny was silent as the truck driver followed us to the factory. Leaning to the back seat, she tickled little baby Emma, playing with her. “Um, do you like Douglas?” she asked the baby as Emma giggled. Then she said to me, “You know, I feel a little bit bad that I’m charging you ten thousand dollars, and now you kind of did work for me on the clock.” “Don’t worry about it.” I growled. “I’m just thankful, that’s all.” “Me too. I’m thankful I got you here.” I said, putting my hand on her knee. “Yeah, I know.” “You know?” I asked, arching an eyebrow as we pulled up to a red light behind the truck. “Yeah, I like having you here.” “You do?” “Yeah. I like having you here.” The baby started babbling, which distracted Genny. “Yeah, do you like that? Do you like looking at the window? We’re at the red light!” she

said. Warmth spread through my chest in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever. Watching Emma and Genny play together, I could feel the love flowing through me. Yet, this was only temporary. It was fleeting, and the long game meant getting rid of the baby and never seeing Genny again. Soon, I’d be back in North Carolina and this would all be a dream. “Fuck!” I muttered out loud, before I realized what I’d said. “Don’t swear in front of the baby,” she chided. “Besides, why are you randomly swearing?” I stiffened my posture. What the hell was I supposed to tell to Genny? Was I supposed to tell her that I love the way she handled the baby. I regretted that I once left her for the military. I didn’t know. I was never the best at vocalizing things anyway. So, I just shrugged as the light turned green. “That guy was a pain,” I said, diverting the subject. “Yeah, well, we don’t have to worry about that anymore.” I chuckled, my face tightening. “Hey, you looked hot,” I said. The words coming out from nowhere. “What? What do you mean?” I smiled. A cocky grin crossed my face. If I

wasn’t going to say this now, when would I? “I mean, you looked hot when you were doing business. Even when you look at your phone, you’re all focused. I love that expression you have. Hot.” Her eyes drifted from the dashboard to me and she let a soft smile spread across her face. “Stop it!” “Stop what?” I said innocently. “You can’t do this. We’re not anything, Kade. You left me!” “I did not want to leave you! What other choice did I have? I was eighteen years old. I hadn’t seen anything in the world. I had no money. I had few options. What did you want me to do?” “I wanted you to stay here with me,” she huffed, angrily. I let out my own huff of breath as we finally pulled up behind her factory. “Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t live up to that, but-” “But what?” she cut me off as she bounced little Emma on her knee. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I’ve really enjoyed being back with you, that’s all. It feels right. It feels really good. I’ve been travelling all around for the last eight years and... you have no idea. You’ve basically been the only anchor I’ve ever had in life, and it makes me feel like-” I swallowed and pause. “Are you not gonna finish that statement?”

“Like I actually have something to live for,” I finally growled. “Kade! Don’t talk like that. You have plenty to live for.” “Maybe, but nothing as sweet as you. And I’ll never have that again. It’s okay though. It’s my fault. I ruined it. I take responsibility for that, but I want you to know. If I could do it again,” I paused. Did I really wanna go here? Yes, I did. “I would have never left.”

8

GENEVIEVE

I

set the playpen up in my office and laid Emma down. She was exhausted and thankfully passed out immediately. With everything that just happened, it’d been a long day for all of us. I was just glad it was over. A recurring concern kept filling me with dread at this whole situation. How did the driver get the wrong address in the first place? I checked the email I sent to both the suppliers and the shipping company. There were no mistakes on my end. Someone had to have called them and changed the address… but who would do that, and why? I put a pin in that for now. Everything had worked out, more or less. I didn’t like how Kade assaulted that guy, but I was glad he was there. I needed that shipment and Kade got it for me.

Principles were for the well-fed. As much as I hated to admit it, I liked that he stuck up for me. My pulse started beating faster at the recent vivid memory. It was like that high school dance all over again. Kade was so intimidating, so take charge… It sent a shiver through me. But, not quite enough to distract me from my exhaustion or the looming stress of work. I sat down at my desk and hunched over my work computer, trying to decompress while Kade set up all the new equipment in the shop a few rooms over. When I started my computer up, I saw all the notifications. The non-soap orders were pouring in! For the first time since taking out that bank loan, I actually had hope that things actually might work out! I wouldn’t be able to start working on these orders until the first half shipment of aloe came in, but this was a great sign! I placed a baby monitor in the playpen next to Emma and floated into the shop where Kade was finishing setting up. “You’re beaming. I take it you’ve got good news?” Kade asked with a grunt, sliding the last thirty-gallon barrel back beside the giant melters. They must’ve weighed a ton. How he’d moved them at all blew my mind. Kade had to get creative with reorganizing existing stuff to make room.

“You could say that.” I wore a wide, bright smile as I scanned the room and took in the new equipment. I placed the baby monitor receiver on a nearby shelf so I could easily hear Emma if anything happened. With the new bottling station now in place the room looked a little cramped. Who knew? If orders kept coming in at this rate, I might have to get a bigger space just to keep up! Everything was finally coming together. I loved this feeling. “OK. That’s the last of it. Let me ask you something,” Kade rubbed the dust from his hands and made his way to the room’s sink to clean up. “Hmm?” I asked distractedly. His subtly flexing arms, as he washed his hands, stole away my attention. At some point while setting everything up, he’d striped down to his fitted tank-top under shirt. “I’m just a simple military man, but how does this new gear streamline the creation of soap exactly?” He cocked his head at me, catching me checking him out. “Well,” I cleared my throat, trying to pretend that I wasn’t just ogling him. “It’s all too technical to go into right now.” “Yeah?” He asked. There was coyness in his voice that said he didn’t believe me. “Oh yeah,” I bluffed, swallowing hard. I hated

lying and even worse, I wasn’t very good at it. I had an awful poker face, so I tried to keep everything as grounded in fact as possible. “I’m trying to explore the stocking-stuffer market this season with a lot of small packaged goods, hence the new bottling machine over there.” “That makes sense.” Kade nodded thoughtfully, crossing his arms. Then a wicked smirk crept across his lips as he reached into the back of a shelf and pulled out a cardboard box. “So, what’s this then?” “Nothing!” I snatched the closed box from Kade’s strong hands. He held the box so effortlessly that I’d forgotten how heavy it was, and almost dropped it before not-so-nonchalantly catching it. “That’s, uh, boring stuff really. Private family trade secrets sort-of-thing.” I chuckled nervously. “Y’know, like the eleven herbs and spices in KFC’s original recipe? That kind of thing.” “Yeah, of course. I understand. I’d never want to invade your privacy like that.” “I appreciate that.” I put the box safely away on the floor, underneath the table holding one of the large tanks. “I guess you have matured after all. The old you would’ve never-” “Lick it Lube. All natural guilty pleasures never felt so good.” Kade read one of the labels he’d apparently pulled from the box earlier. “Damn it, Kade!” My eyes went wide as my cheeks and neck became flush with embarrassment.

I whirled around and snatched the label from him. Matured, my ass! “Your family has some kinky original recipes.” Kade’s self-satisfied smile was wide enough to split his face in two. “Please, don’t tell anyone.” I groaned. “You know how close-minded the people are here… if they knew what I was really up to, they’d run me out of town.” “They can’t be that bad. Who cares? It’s just lube.” “Sex lube,” I replied, emphatically. “You obviously never met the Copas. They might show up with torches and pitchforks.” I shivered at the thought of them specifically finding out. “Literally.” “Your secret’s safe with me.” He stepped in and grazed my face gently with the back of his fingers. “But, you are going to owe me one.” “Oh yeah?” I asked, openly taking him in now with a smile cracking my lips. I was still riding high off my good mood. “What do you have in mind?” “How’s your customer service department?” Kade tore off his fitted shirt. He had one of my Lick It Lube label stickers on his lower abs. I laughed at the sight of something I designed plastered to the abs of the hottest man I’d ever seen. The funny reveal didn’t stop my own stomach from tightening at the sight of his massive, defined

pecs and shoulders. Kade’s tan skin seemed to glow under my old overhead fluorescent lights. The sprawling swaths of rough naked skin were broken by a hard life worth of scars. There were so many, each told a different story. “You know, I always figured you’d have some tattoos,” I said, my eyes feasting on his wall of muscles. “With all the scars I have from training and missions I never needed any,” Kade glanced down and flexed, making the various scars ripple and bulge. He tossed his shirt on one of my metal tables. Kade had changed so much. He'd always been the boy of my dreams growing up, but what I saw now was so much more than that. Here was a man unlike any I'd ever seen before, and that thrilled the hell out of me. The thought of his touch made my skin tingle. I found myself reaching for the sculpted notch below his ribs. My eyesight was obviously failing me, but maybe if I touched him everything would make sense. Men couldn't really look like this, especially here where every guy had a beer belly. I didn't stand a chance, it wasn't even fair! “If I pinch myself are you going to disappear? How are you even real?” I traced each valley between his rippling abs all the way down to the V

of his hips. I was twenty-six and my dating life was pathetic. Amber was quick to steal the attention from every guy I was even remotely interested in. After a while, I stopped trying and just put all my effort into growing the business-or rather, keeping the business alive. Kade was the only one to ever make my blood boil, in the best and worst possible ways. I may have loved him, and then hated him, but as much as I hated to admit it, I'd always wanted him. I couldn't tear my eyes off his amazing body. His hip bones stole my breath until I saw the bulge of his cock snake down his leg. My pulse rang in my ears like a downpour on a tin roof. Having him come home to me. I couldn’t even remember how many times I masturbated, wondering what this moment would've been like. That's why I didn't stop him when he hooked his rough fingers into the bottom hem of my shirt. With an easy tug, he ripped my shirt up over my head. Was this really happening? Ten years later, and I was actually going to have sex with Kade again. It’d been a decade since I felt his touch. A decade was a lifetime. We were both so different now. Would it feel like slipping on my favorite sweater or like wearing something fresh and all new right off the rack. This was crazy! My whole body cried out for his touch as if to

answer my question. Yes. This was happening. I was terrified and anxious, but so excited I could barely contain myself. “Nah. I’m here.” Kade chuckled, shaking his head slightly. His dark eyes seemed to shine in amazed disbelief. “I never thought I’d actually be glad to be back home.” In a flash of motion, Kade was on his knees and my jeans were hanging around my ankles. “Fuck. You look incredible.” A shiver of lusty excitement ran through my body as I looked down at him. Kade stared up at me as if he were worshiping a goddess. All my fantasies paled in comparisons. “It’s a little chilly in here,” I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “Not for long,” Kade growled defiantly, running his hands up my thighs. His deep, mischievous voice and searching fingertips instantly made me wet, and we’d barely started. “Oh! I squeaked when Kade shot up, grabbed my waist, and hoisted me high up into the air. I giggled at the sudden explosive energy and at my own fear of heights. Knowing that he was the one who had me made me feel safe enough to actually enjoy myself though. “Feels good to lose control sometimes, doesn’t it?” Kade whispered directly into my stomach. His several days of beard stubble prickled my naked, sensitive skin. I felt his intentions vibrate through

my core. He set me down on the freezing metal table. “Cold!” I protested, climbing back up him like an agitated cat. “Sorry,” he laughed, easily hefting me up. I felt his biceps tense as he took all my weight in one arm and with the other he laid out his shirt for me to sit on. “I wasn’t thinking with the right head. Better?” “Much. Where were we?” I asked, embracing the sexiness of fooling around in a place that was so extremely off limits growing up. “I was about to go down on you.” Each silky word that rolled off his tongue melted me a little more. “Oh!” I stuttered through his forwardness. My pillow talk game was beyond rusty, bordering on non-existent territory. I almost felt the need to tell him that it wasn’t my fault because I never had any practice, but decided that I didn’t need to explain myself. Just enjoy the ride, Genny. You might never get this with him ever again. “Don’t worry, I’ll play nice.” Kade grunted in at my obvious insecurities. “At least until I have you screaming my name.” Not likely, at least not too loudly. As sexy as that thought was I immediately thought about waking Emma in the other room. I glanced over at the baby monitor on the other table just to make

sure it hadn’t fallen or anything. A jolt ran through me when I felt his lips. I sucked in a massive breath, then forced myself to relax and let my head lull back. I fought the anxious jumble of doubts and fears that seemed to peak when he peeled back the sopping wet cotton of my panties and exposed me fully to the cool air in the room. It’d been a long time since I fooled around with anyone and couldn’t help but feel a little selfconscious. “You are so damn beautiful, do you know that?” I didn’t know if he could sense that fear, but he pulled back just to admire me. The sincerity in his voice both simultaneously shook me and calmed all my frayed nerves. This wasn’t some stranger, this was Kade Houston. I used to trust him more than anyone. What if I let myself trust him now, just for tonight? I bit back an acknowledging smile, but didn’t say anything. He scanned my face to make sure I was still alright then dove in gently. My naked pussy spasmed when his steaming hot tongue laid across it. My eyes turned to saucers. “Well then! OK,” I laughed, tightened up, and generally came off like a massive nerd. “If it gets too intense, just tell me to stop.” Every one of his words vibrated against my delicate

folds, threatening to break me apart. “Just say the word.” “Stop...” I repeated unconsciously. I was too focused on the waves of pleasure his tongue and lips sent through my clit to understand what I was saying. When he stopped and looked up at me with a puzzled expression, the rush of awareness caught up with me. “I mean, don't stop!” Kade smiled at how much of an effect he had on me. He could always do that to me. Even when we were kids, Kade always got under my skin. He always knew me crazy well. He was the only person who’d ever “got” me. That was another reason it hurt so bad when he had left. If I was a puzzle, he was all my corner pieces. That’s why it was so painful when he disappeared on me. It felt like I was losing a part of myself. But now that he was back, all the intensity was boiled down into a white-hot passion. What he was doing to my pussy was nearly criminal. His tongue pushed back my petals, teasingly slipping in and out of my slit. I could feel his desire; he loved to make my hips buck. “I'm going to savor every last delicious drop of you, Genny.” Kade made my clit vibrate with pleasure until it quickly became too much. “Every time you close those pretty green eyes of yours, you’re going to remember every inch, flick, and

lick of my tongue.” My pussy began to tremble, but he didn't stop. His words ripped through me. “God.” I slapped my hand down on the metal table, fighting the inevitable climax as long as I could. My stomach lurched forward in ecstasy. My fingers dragged through his short-cropped hair. It was trimmed to military regulation-too short to grasp anything. I might as well have been floating. He made me feel like my body was adrift in stardust. “Kade!” his name erupted from the bottom of my lungs, as gentle waves of pleasure pushed me up to the cliff of orgasm. The sensation gripped me, tightening all my muscles and lifting my butt off the metal table. I might’ve floated away if his hands weren’t clamped roughly over my thighs. Kade smiled, squeezing tighter and pulling me down even harder, never relenting with his wicked tongue. Was he trying to kill me? “I’m so close,” panting, I wiped away the sweat that rolled off my ribs. I was a wobbly, moaning mess by the time my legs started shaking. “Don’t stop.” “If you like this, you’d better get ready for the main attraction.” He cooed, popping the top button of his jeans. The sound of the dull fabric release was heavy and dripping with promises.

And, almost as if on cue, the baby monitor went off with the sound of a very awake, very upset Emma. “No… no.” I growled through gritted teeth, glancing irritatedly at the monitor. Now, Emma? Really? Why do you hate me? “Well, that’s unfair.” A maternal instinct kicked in, and I immediately knew that - for now - the fun and games were over. “All of parenting is unfair.” Kade let out a forlorn snort and rolled his head back in frustration. “I got this.” Kade leaned back in and kissed my sensitive clit once more before pulling away completely. The abrupt and tender act sent another shiver rattling through my core. “Bastard.” I sharply slid away from Kade, then collapsed backward in the table. The cool metal felt amazing against my fire-licked skin. The satiation of a year’s worth of longing was heartbreakingly out of reach. I’d never been that wet or turned on before. “Raincheck?” Watching him saunter off, shirtless, licking his fingers only stoked the raging fire inside me, frustrating me even more. I took a deep breath, and promised myself that I’d sneak off into the bathroom later and get myself off. Kade stopped and looked me over, hunger saturated his dark eyes. The sight of me laid out, naked just for him made him growl. “You bet that

cute ass of yours.”

9

KADE

I

barely slept that night, but I did manage to get at least a few hours of shut-eye. What with my worry about Emma, the cramped futon I was sleeping on, and the giant boner I was sporting, I wasn’t exactly sleeping like a log. Still, when I woke up I felt surprisingly refreshed and alive. I glanced at my watch--six a.m. Shit, by my normal standards, six a.m. was sleeping in. Usually, I was out the door for my morning workout by 4:30 a.m. I walked over to Emma’s playpen, and watched her sleeping so soundly. A hint of sunlight had started to pour into the room, casting a long shadow from the one window in the office. I smiled as I watched her little tiny chest rising and falling. At six months, Emma was still oblivious to all of the stresses and anxieties of adult life, and

I envied that. Just then, she stirred in her sleep, and a minute later began to cry. “Awww there, there, Emma, no need for that,” I said in a low whisper, picking her up from her playpen. I hoisted her onto my chest and walked her around the room while feeding her formula. After a little while, she calmed down and I sat down on the now upright futon with her. It wasn’t long until she was sleeping again, nestled up all nice and close against my chest. I guess that’s what babies do. Eat, sleep, poop, and occasionally giggle. And then sleep again. Interestingly, even though I was the adult here, and I was the one who was supposedly calming Emma down, I felt incredibly at peace all of the sudden with her little heart beating against me. The stress of the past few days had sunken in, and there was this gnawing feeling at the back of my mind that something wasn’t quite right with the way I was dealing with everything. I was trying to be as emotionless as possible in all of this. I didn’t need to get attached. I couldn’t get attached. That would spell disaster when I was headed back to North Carolina for the next four years and there was nothing I could do about it. It didn’t feel quite right just giving baby Emma away. My plan to keep calling her Baby had failed miserably. She was certainly Emma. And like it or

not, I was now her only connection to the world. She had no one else. Emotion welled up inside me, as I thought about the SEALs and the code to never leave a man or woman behind. It wasn’t done. I’d put myself in dangerous situations that I tried to constantly forget. But sometimes those memories came crashing back into my psyche, like an unbridled rolling stone picking up momentum down a hill. I swallowed and took a deep breath, needing to stay calm before my anxiety crashed through and overtook me. Think about Emma. Think about Genny. Putting a picture of Genny in my mind’s eye certainly calmed me in a way. Just knowing she was there--that there was someone out there capable of apparently loving me--put me at ease. She had loved me. Key word: had. Sure, it was clear as day the desire we had for each other had never left, but there was no way we could end up together in the long run. What was she going to do, move out to North Carolina with me? Shit, I was thinking crazy now. You’re overreacting. It was just a little hookup. Just a little taste… I reached in between a couple of the cushions and pulled out my phone.

Oddly, there was a voice message on it so I pressed play. “Yeah, hi Kade this is Lara, Jessica’s cousin. We’re passing through the area tonight, and we were wondering if we could meet with you? We know it’s a tough time, but we got that voice message from last night and we’ve recently been looking into adoption. Maybe we could give little Emma a home. Give me a call back…” I patted Emma gently on the back. “Well Em, looks like you might be finding some good parents after all.” I vaguely knew of Lara. She was Jessica’s wellto-do cousin who lived in Katy, Texas. Hell, Lara would be able to give Emma a hell of a better upbringing than I could. Though, of course she would call the minute I was starting to get the slightest bit attached to the little girl.

L ARA and her husband happened to be passing through Douglas that day, so they met up with Emma and me at a local diner for a noon brunch, and we talked over the terms. “Oh my gosh, Emma is just adorable! Aren’t you, sweetheart!” Lara said, as she gaga’d with

Emma bouncing on her lap. I scooped another piece of my omelet into my mouth and nodded. “She’s the cutest baby this side of the Rio Grande. That’s just a fact. It’s been scientifically proven.” There was a giant pit at the bottom of my stomach, and I couldn’t really tell why. I knew in my heart that this was for the best. Lara was related to the family, being the cousin of Jessica, Jax’s wife. She could take good care of Emma. That was just the reality, and I needed to face the facts. Lara leaned in and put her hand on my forearm. Her husband looked on and nodded somberly as Lara spoke. “I’m really sorry. I mean Jessica was my cousin, but I know you must be really beaten up about losing your brother.” That made the knot in my throat ten times worse. “Yeah, it’s a shocker.” Is all I managed to choke out. Even though I wasn’t close to my brother at all. That was just a fact. A sad fact. I glanced reflectively out the window for a moment, cleaning off my face with a little bit of the napkin. I washed a forkful of hash browns down with a swig of coffee. Lara held Emma in her arms, bouncing her. “So Kade, is this it? Do we have to go through an adoption agency? Or how are we going to do this?” I shrugged. “Honestly Lara, this has been such

a crazy week. The fact is, I don’t think they are keeping tabs. I mean they don’t have the resources to be checking up on Emma. For all they know, she’s in good hands.” In my hands, supposedly. The pit in my stomach only deepened when I thought about not seeing Emma’s little face, or hearing her goofy giggle. Raising my eyes to Lara and her husband, I forced the words out of my mouth. “And now, I can let her go, and she can be with you.” Lara nodded, and Emma’s cold brown eyes shined like diamonds in the afternoon sun. Maybe I could have a baby? No, I shook my head. This was the right thing and, to make a battlefield analogy, sometimes you had to know when you were the right man for the job, and other times you had to know when to step back. I wasn’t the man for this job. Emma was meant to be with a family--with Lara and her husband. They were more established. They already have a family. They could take care of her. It was sad to see her go. As Emma’s car seat was transferred to the other car, I thought about how I needed to return my car seat to Kendra, the nice nurse. It was for the best. The moment they pulled away in the parking lot, my phone rang. It was my boss, Commander Steele. “Sir?” I answered the phone.

“Hey Sergeant, how are you holding up? How the hell are you?” he grumbled in a low voice. I cleared my throat. I was caught off guard by his lack of formality. Plus, I didn’t exactly know how to explain to my commander that I had gotten a little bit attached to my brother’s baby, and had run into my ex-girlfriend and only love. You know, standard stuff. And now, I had no fucking clue what to do, or how to feel. So, I just turned to an easy answer. “I’m alright,” I said, stiffly. Silence hung over the phone call. I could hear him breathe. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Sergeant.” I ran my hand over my face. “You don’t sound alright,” he continued. “I know what it’s like to lose a brother. It happened to me too. Look, I pulled some strings and we got you the base that you wanted. In Texas.” Adrenaline pumped through me. “You what?” “Yeah, you always said you wanted to be located in Fort Worth right? Well, we got you there. Hey, don’t say a thing. We had someone drop out anyway. Wasn’t like I had to do anything wildly illegal. And no, I’m not winking over the phone.” I had to laugh a little. “Is this your sense of humor, Sir?” “Sergeant, don’t question me. I’ll be expecting to see you reporting for duty when the time

comes.” “Thank you, Sir.” Though our conversation was brief, it changed everything. Now, I had no fucking clue what I was going to do. Emma, little baby Emma. Genny. Yeah, I had to make a fucking decision. I turned on my truck and then turned it off for a minute. I opened the window and let the cool air come in. Well, cool for Texas was about fifty-five degrees today. I could feel the emotion welling up beneath me. Finally, I just screamed as loud as I could. “Fuuuck!” I banged against the steering wheel, hitting my palms as hard as I could. Why did it feel like something was not right in the world right now? I let out a loud exhale and turned on some heavy metal music as I made my way back to my brother’s place.

10

GENEVIEVE

T

he bottling machine topped off the last of the orders I was able to fill and whirred to a stop. For all their borderline extortion-like practices, Copa Farms had kept their word. They arrived on time like they said they would and dropped off two pallets, which was half my total order. I blew through both pallets of aloe vera in one day and, looking over at the still-printing stack of new orders that were coming in, I might have to do another full order with them before the season was over! One step at a time, I reminded myself. I paid for the the last half a few days ago, so I should be getting the rest of my aloe shipment tomorrow. That was at least one thing I didn’t have to worry about. I stretched and shook the nine

hours of working soreness out of my arms, legs, and back. There was something uniquely rewarding about reaching the end of a great productive day. Granted, I wasn’t out of the woods yet. The busy holiday season was far from over. There were a lot of long, hard days on the horizon, but at least now with the new infrastructure in place and orders coming in, I had hope again! Kade was responsible for some of that hope. Glancing at the clock, I had just enough time to start cleaning up for a celebratory dinner with Kade. Kade offered to take Emma for me today so I could throw myself into the work. Treating him to a nice dinner after everything he’d done for me was the least I could do. I smirked as I washed the sticky aloe off my hands. If I was being honest, I’d been looking forward to dinner with him all day. We didn’t call it a date or anything, but in the back of my mind I knew that was exactly what it was. By the time I was out of the shower I had my outfit and shoes picked out in my mind. There was a small closet in my cramped office designed to hold coats, but I repurposed it a long time ago for what little nice wardrobe I had. I hadn’t had any reason to browse through that closet since…I drew a blank. Amber better not have stolen the dress I wanted

to wear! Walking past my computer I saw my phone literally vibrate itself off the desk. Completely losing my towel in the process, I lunged for my cell and, after a bit of frantic juggling, was able to grab it out of the air. “What’s got you so riled up?” A subconscious tenseness crept into my features when I felt how warm my phone was. I looked at the dark screen for a moment and wondered if there was some kind of electrical malfunction. My phone never heated up this much before. A second later the screen lit up and gave me my answer. Immediately, my heart started racing and my intestines cramped in a ball. The tiny hairs all over my body raised and nervous sweat speckled my brow. With now shaking hands, I put in my password and cleared the screen saver. “Oh no…” I whimpered as I thumbed through hundreds of texts, social media notifications, missed calls, and voicemails. My phone was warm to the touch because of how many people were contacting me. Someone is dead. Immediately, I thought of my parents and became nauseous. What else could it possibly be? I was barely a footnote in this town otherwise, why else would so many people be reaching out to me?

The messages weren’t of condolences, they were of condemnation. People weren’t expressing their sympathies for me, they were pissed. At first, a wave of relief washed over me that my parents were alright but that was short lived. I followed a link to the YouTube video she posted on her channel titled, Douglas, Texas is now Kinky AF. And it’s all thanks to my sister. The video went up five hours ago and had over twohundred thousand views. That was more than fourtimes the population of our whole town. “Nononono. She wouldn’t...” I whispered in horror as I started watching the three and a half minute long video that started with Amber walking through the Shepherd Soaps store. I slowly collapsed onto my cot as I continued watching. “Hey freaks. Are you down-to-fuck?” Amber asked offhandedly in the video as she walked through the store, generally rifling through the displays I meticulously put together. Muffled yet familiar music pounded louder in the background the further into the building she got. When was this filmed? “Because I know my sister is. Here, let me show you.” Amber raised an eyebrow and let the question hang for a few seconds. She sauntered up to the door of the shop where I made all the soap, pressed her finger to her lips, winked, then slowly cracked open the door.

I was horrified to see the secret cell phone footage of me hustling from station to station mixing, pouring and forming product all the while dancing like an idiot to the mixed CD that Kade gave me. I looked terrible in my stained work clothes, pinned up hair and bright yellow gloves. The video followed me for thirty seconds as I belted out tone-deaf renditions of my favorite teenage songs. Looking smug that she’d embarrassed me enough, Amber carefully closed the door and retreated into the hallway back towards the store section of the building. “Yup, that’s Genevieve Shepherd shaking her ass, probably still thinking about the hot guy who slept over last night.” Amber shrugged and feigned innocence. “Now. You know me. I’m not one to throw shade. I have no idea what she did with Kade last night. How do I know his name? Because Genevieve was screaming it so loud that I could hear her two floor up.” I paused the video, needing a break from the incredible invasion of privacy. I groaned, doubling over on my cot, feeling sick to my stomach. Amber and I had never really gotten along, but this…this character assassination was way too far. Why would she do this to me? Tensions had been ramping up between us ever since I was given the family business. She was the

oldest, sure, but growing up, even up until Mom and Dad retired, Amber never wanted anything to do with Shepherd Soaps. She’d said countless times that we should let the failing business die and that she would never waste her life like our parents. She was always more interested in growing her YouTube following than finding a way to make Shepherd Soaps stay competitive. I straightened, breathed, and readied myself to watch the rest of the video. This was, by far, the worst thing Amber had ever done to me, and I hated that Kade was dragged into this too, although he probably wouldn’t care. It was embarrassing and hurtful that she’d do this to me, but at least she’d kept the family business out of it. Or, so I thought. “What exactly is she making, you ask?” A wicked smile crept vindictively across Amber’s sharp features. “Normally, it would be some boring soap concoction with like sage and eucalyptus or some bullshit, but not today.” Amber held up one of my Lick it Lube labels from the cardboard box that Kade found. I immediately felt like the biggest idiot in the world for not hiding that better. But why should I have? Everytime I asked Amber for help with orders, she’d said she wouldn’t be caught dead in the shop. Now, I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

“So, if you want a sad loser making lube for you to smash to, you now know where to go. This has been your girl Amber with your weekly Splash or Trash segment. See you freaks in the next video.” Amber kissed at the camera and the video ended. Dozens more notifications and messages vibrated my phone, but for the next five whole minutes, I was paralyzed with worried indecision. Eventually, to keep my phone from melting, I turned off all the alerts. Mustering up some courage, I started going through the hundreds of YouTube comments. There was so much hate… Mostly from people I didn’t know telling me that I should be ashamed of myself, or calling me some kind of whore, or explicitly describing how they were going to use the lube on me. It was all too stomach-churningly disgusting. I hadn’t even read half the toxic comments before I had to exit out of the page or risk throwing up. Going through my voicemails and texts was even harder, not because of the messages I received, but because of the ones I didn’t. Our parents always encouraged and supported our hobbies, so I knew for a fact that Mom watched every video Amber put out. I was the one who set up the alert for her so she could watch them right when they were posted. I forced myself to go through everything and

didn’t see a single message from Mom or Dad. Oh, God, what did they think of me now? My phone suddenly lit up with an incoming call, one I was in absolutely no shape to accept. I guess it was only a matter of time until I had to deal with them. Given their preference of just showing up in person, I was actually relieved that they called instead. At least this way I didn’t have to participate in being yelled at. I slid the icon left across the screen and let Copa Farms go right to voicemail. I didn’t waste any time listening to their message. Aggie Copa’s tirade went down pretty much how I imagined, a fiercely traditional woman would express her displeasure and disappointment. In a shrill, exasperated and fumingly angry voice, Aggie berated me for dragging their farm’s name through the mud if by nothing except the virtue of association. She also said they would “not be supplying the remainder of the product and would also be keeping the money I sent them for irrevocable damages to their reputation caused by the Shepherd family’s secret...deviance!” The backlash and hate from the video Amber posted didn’t stop the existing orders from being filled, but the lack of product from Copa Farms definitely did. I was going to have to refund everyone, and without getting my money back, there was no way I was going to be able to pay the

bank. “This is it,” I choked the words out and immediately started to hyperventilate. Thoughts of embarrassing my family, and failing the business, spiraled me into a deep depression. I lowered my head and started to cry. This was my worst nightmare and the final nail in the coffin. I was going to have to sell Shepherd Soaps.

11

KADE

I

gritted my teeth in silence as I went through my brother's things in his office. I’d always focused on our differences, but it was odd seeing how similar we were, even in the space we kept. Like me, he only had a few key possessions. His bookshelf mostly consisted of a few odd notebooks and pieces of paper printed out for shipping things. A list of possible baby names with Emma circled, and others crossed out. He’d have wanted Emma with someone else-not me--I reasoned as the guilt began to creep in. My brother didn’t even like me, let alone love me. Muttering to myself, I crumpled up the paper with the baby names and tossed it in the trash. I was here to clean the house, not take a trip down memory lane. I’d even made arrangements to have his ashes sent to Emma’s new family, so they could

figure out what to do. Then there was Jax’s house and what to do with it. I might be able to rent it out, but I’d rather just sell it and sever my connection with this town completely. Start something new, somewhere new. Once I was gone, I would be totally cut off from my past. A new life beckoned. The very top shelf of Jax’s bookcase was filled with a dozen or so books he liked. The Beautiful and the Damned. For Whom the Bell Tolls. Damn. I didn’t realize he was such a reader. I picked up the Ernest Hemingway book, and a picture fell out with three smiling faces. It was from when I was in seventh grade and Jax was in the ninth. We had shit-eating smirks on our faces, and damned if I almost didn’t recognize the girl who was next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Genny’s hair back then was almost goldenbrown. While Jax and I stared straight at the camera, her eyes slanted toward me with a sideways grin plastered on her face. We were just neighborhood friends back then. It wasn’t until years later our friendship blossomed into a romance. But damned if that look in her eyes didn’t tell me my seventh grade idiot ass had no idea how much that girl would come to love me. And I would

throw it all away to get away from here. I flipped the photo over a couple of times in my hand, letting my mind wander. Maybe I still didn’t get it. The sound of the doorknob jolted me from my train of thought, and I heard Genny let out a cough as the door rattled. I headed out of the office to greet her. All of my thoughts about getting the hell out of dodge dissolved like sugar in water when she came into view. For just a moment, before she turned and greeted me with her eyes, I felt like I was looking at a damn stranger. Just the way she filled out a pair of jeans had me thinking very dirty thoughts. “Hey you,” I called to her, tipping my chin up. “Hey,” she flashed a very fake-looking grin my way as I strode toward her. She put her hand out and grabbed my forearm. “Bad news. Really bad news.” “Oh?” I arched an eyebrow. It sure seemed like everything these days was bad news. “Yeah. I’m totally fucked. I’ve got to sell Shepherd Soaps.” I scrunched up my face, a little confused. “That seems sudden.” “My sister…” she muttered, her expression tightening. “My damn sister. Look at this.” Genny pulled out her phone and showed me a

YouTube video her sister had made, revealing the new business behind Shepard Soaps. My jaw dropped as I watched how much vitriol Amber spewed. And at her own damn family. “What the fuck?! Why would she throw you under the bus like that?” “For the fucking views!” Genny yelled, pacing away from me and throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m totally done. I’ve let down my parents. I deceived them to turn a profit, and now, they hate me, and it doesn’t even matter that I’ve agreed to this week of watching little baby Emma for a ridiculous amount of ten-thousand...hey where is Emma anyway? Is she sleeping?” Genny walked to the room where we’d set up a crib for Emma. “Emma’s with her new family,” I informed her, dryly. Genny laughed, rolling her eyes. “Funny. Seriously, where is she though?” I took a few steps toward her, put my hands on my hips and rocked my weight back on one leg. I stared into her mahogany brown eyes and told her again. “Like I said, she’s with her new family. It was a little sudden, but Jax’s wife’s cousin was able to take her. She and her husband were passing through town. They’re well off, they live in Austin, and--” “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she seethed.

“No,” I said, my voice ice cold. “I’m not kidding you at all. Emma needed a family, Gen. So I made the call. I gave her away to someone close enough to the family, someone who would be able to give her the loves she deserves.” She lowered her eyes and her shoulders dropped. “What. The. Fuck. Kade.” When she raised her eyes to mine again, I swear I saw fire in them. It was the same fire that made me love her way back when, but right now this was vengeful. I clenched my jaw. “Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me, Genny. You act like this was a fucking easy decision for me! But a decision had to be made. Emma needed a home and a family. I couldn’t give that to her, so I decided--” “Exactly,” she seethed, her tone venomous. “You decided. You didn’t even think to fucking tell me? I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her! Did you ever think that maybe I’d become a little attached since we’ve been with her. Maybe?!” She ran her fingers through her hair. I raised my chin to her, keeping my expression steady. “Had to be done.” “Yeah. Right. It had to be done. And you had to decide it. Just like you fucking decided eight years ago that you would run away from Douglas and join up with the SEALs. Whatever’s best for Kade, that’s what’s best for everyone, right!” Her tone

oozed with sarcasm, and my blood boiled. “Like I had a choice!” I fired back. I took a step toward her, and I could feel the heat of her body. She crossed her arms as she gazed up at me, her eyes narrow. “You did have a choice. Instead, you made up your mind and never even asked for my input! You just left forever! And now I don’t even get to say goodbye to Emma!” My nostrils flared and my breath became noisy. Genny trembled a little, but we didn’t unlock eyes. A tear formed in her right eye and ran down her cheek. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what the fuck to say. She was right, in a way. “This doesn’t have much to do with Emma, does it,” I finally growled, taking her in my arms. She let out a sudden, surprised moan as I took hold of her hips. She collapsed onto me, landing her head on my chest and wrapping her arms around my torso. “No. You damn well know what it’s got to do with. You just charge back into town and start flirting with me again like it’s no big deal. Like we didn’t just spend the last eight years apart.” Her scent was intoxicating. I held her tight, and for one brief moment, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I saw us getting to the end of this saga, together. I saw myself staying in Douglas and feeling this way, waking up next to Genny every

morning. And that scared the shit out of me. “I have to go,” I growled into her ear. “Go? Where?” she asked, pulling back. “Back to base,” I said simply. “Kade, Stop. Just stay for a night, think it over. We can finally talk about things.” Her lips, glossy and slightly parted, begged me to stay. I leaned in and kissed her one more time on the lips. When I pulled up from the kiss her eyes were wide, disbelieving. “What was that for?” Turning around, I headed for my brother’s office. Genny’s footsteps followed behind me as I went to grab my duffle bag full of the few items I’d brought with me. “God dammit, Kade, say something.” I noticed my brother’s golden watch on top of my duffle bag--the one that had been handed down by my grandfather. I slipped it on my wrist. It was one I’d always wanted, basically the last remaining family heirloom in the Houstons. Now that I had that--I was good to go. I turned to Genny. This wasn’t pretty, but it needed to be said. “I have to go,” I said simply. “Why?” she asked, shaking her head. I shrugged. “You know why. I’m not meant to stay in this town.”

12

GENEVIEVE

T

he office answering machine beeped and I heard Mom begin her message. “Genevieve? It’s Mom, honey. Please call me back.” Her voice was so sweet, and reassuring that I instinctively reached for the phone, before I stopped myself. My hand dropped with a thud onto the desk as I let the message end with the beep, then watched the voicemail counter go up a number and flash. I couldn’t bare to talk to anyone right now, especially not them now that I was resigned to sell the business that they poured their whole lives into. I lowered my head to the desk and tried to process everything that happened. How had everything turned to shit so quickly? Things were starting to make sense!

Despite watching my livelihood and legacy fall to tatters, it was Kade that cut the deepest. He didn’t even let me say goodbye to Emma. Taking care of that adorable brown-eyed girl this week had become so exhaustingly comfortable, that it felt wrong not to have her. It felt as if I’d misplaced one of my arms. She was so much work, but the little games we played and the way she smiled at me stirred something in my soul that neither my business, nor even Kade came close to reaching. I knew that finding Emma a home was always the plan, but not getting to see her one last time before she was gone… It twisted me all up and crushed me into a fine powder. I felt rudderless, hopeless, adrift in a vast ocean of loneliness. How could you do that to me, Kade? “Fuck!” I stuttered in air and choked back a flood of tears as the office phone began to ring again. I reached out to tear the cord out of the phone and kill the line all together but the answering machine was quicker and started playing the message. “Genny, Mom again. Please pick up if you’re there, sweetie. I’ve been calling your cell but it’s off. We’re worried about you and need to know if you’re alright.” There was a long pause, as Mom struggled to find the words. “Your father and I just

want you to know how proud of you we are.” Proud? I coughed and choked. How could they possibly be proud of me? “I failed Mom.” I grabbed the phone and turned off the answering machine. “It’s over. There’s nothing to be proud of. I haven’t had the business for a full year and now it’s going to get sold off.” “Failed? Mom asked with genuine curiosity. “Tell me. How many orders have you received in the past month? “Like a dozen.” I snorted darkly, feeling that pit in my stomach grow. “The soap sales are at a record low.” “No.” Mom paused, carefully navigating how she was going to continue. “With your other business endeavor. “You mean the sex lube?” I clarified bluntly. I was too depressed and defeated to be anything but upfront and raw with my not-so-secret-anymore project. “I don’t know, several hundred, maybe as much as a few thousand.” “A thousand orders?” Mom’s pitch raised. “Sweetie, that’s more than double our best month in the past fifteen years.” “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to have to refund all the orders anyways. I don’t have the product to fill them.” “I heard,” Mom said. “The Copa’s called us to see if we knew what you were doing with their

aloe. Your father offered them more money to send you the rest of the shipment, but they rather aggressively turned us down.” “Wait.” My head cocked back. I wiped my puffy red eyes. “You don’t care that I’ve completely twisted the ideals of the Shepherd Soaps?” “Ideals?” Mom laughed. “Your great grandfather funded this business with laundered money from bootleggers during the prohibition. Just because we made soap doesn’t mean our family is squeaky clean.” “Really? Great Paw Paw was a criminal?” How had I never heard about that before? “Wow.” “Honestly, Sweetie, the fact that you’ve evolved and were starting to thrive in a new day and age is incredibly admirable. That’s why we’re proud of you! Don’t listen to all the prudes in that town.” “Thanks, Mom.” The corner of my mouth threatened a smile. One part of the weight on my chest had been lifted. It was amazing how a few sentences from the people I loved made me feel so much better. “But what do I do know? If you guys couldn’t get Copa to budge, what chance do I have?” “Genevieve, in your short time as owner you’ve already done much more than we could’ve. If anyone can find a way to pull through this it’s you.”

Mom let the words stand on their own before continuing. “Listen, we’ll support you if you want to sell Shepherd Soaps but don’t let anyone else make that decision for you.” I chuckled weakly and thanked her again for giving me some stuff to think about. The conversation drifted through several topics like it always did, but afterwards when we said our goodbyes I felt so much better. At least better enough to turn my phone back on and stop running from my problems. While my phone booted and updated, I listened to and deleted all the office messages I’d received in the last few days. I used my cell for most of the business stuff so I was terrible at checking the machine. The last message was from the delivery company confirming my order, shipping address and amount that was going to be billed. Everything sounded correct, like it had when I placed the order. I knew I was right! So what happened then? At the very end of the message right before the dispatcher was about to hang up I heard a familiar voice. “Wait! Hi! This is Genevieve Shepherd,” Amber said. “I’m a complete airhead. I forgot to update you. Yeah we moved. I need all that stuff delivered to another address. Are you ready?” Then

the message cut off. “Oh, you incredible bitch!” I shot up and shouted. Immediately it all became clear. She was actively sabotaging me so I’d have to sell everything. That way, as per our our parents contract, she’d get half. “That. Is. It.” The apathy and dourness that slowed me down drained from my body, my limbs became lithe with an adrenaline-fueled fury. It only took a few minutes browsing through Amber’s Twitter and Snapchat to realize that she’d be out all day shopping with her friends. I wouldn’t be able to confront her until later this afternoon, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around doing nothing. The gears in my head turned so quickly that I was surprised smoke wasn’t pouring out of my ears. Before long, I knew exactly how to handle my conniving, two-faced sister. I raced out of the store and drove into town. When I got back from the hardware store I changed all the locks of the attached apartment upstairs, then I moved all of her stuff outside into a big pile. Amber needed everyone to know where she was at all times when she was out shopping so I knew exactly when she was wrapping things up. When she was done for the day I poured myself a milkless bowl of the cereal she’d stolen from me and I waited. Amber stepped out of her car wearing an

expression of angry horror at seeing all her possessions in a pile that clashed terribly against her cute pastel outfit. She lowered her oversized sunglasses and sneered at me. “What the fuck is this?” “Was I being too subtle throwing all your shit out onto the road?” I crunched on my cereal casually as I made my way down the exterior stairs that led up to the apartment. “You don’t live here anymore. I’m evicting you.” “You- You can’t evict me, you cunt!” Amber screamed, dropping both armloads of shopping bags. “I live there! Our parents-” “Gave me the building.” I completed the sentence for her and finished my cereal, then put the bowl down and wiped my hands. “So that makes me your landlord. You have the last eightmonths worth of rent and utilities?” Amber paused, fuming, and decided to change the subject. “Mom and Dad are going to be so pissed when they hear about this! They’re going-” “To what exactly?” I answered, getting a flashback to my conversation with the Copas. So, THIS is how it feels to be on this end, huh? “Even if I hadn’t told them how you’ve been sabotaging the business at every turn, which I totally did by the way, they signed everything over to me when they retired.” “This is against the law!” Amber’s voice

boomed with impotent rage and indignation as she stomped the ground. “You can’t just kick someone out, you have to send them some notices or something.” “You really didn’t listen to a thing our parents said did you. No wonder they gave everything to me.” I smiled. “I’ve been the one to let you live here, not them. I felt bad for you. I don’t anymore.” “I live here! I’ve got like squatters rights or whatever.” “Do you live here?” I asked, walking over to the pile of expensive designer clothes and handbags. All of which was bought for her by boys she’s been leading on or by fans of her channel. I picked up a red plastic, gallon tank. “You don’t get your mail delivered here. You never bring any friends over. You never mention this place in any of your videos. It’s almost like you’re ashamed to live rent free above your parent’s modest soap making shop?” “Tell me,” I poured the gasoline over the pile of her belongings. “Does anyone know you live here?” “Stop!” Amber’s already shrill voice went up several octaves. “Are you fucking insane you stupid, mega-cunt? I’ll-I’ll-” Amber rage diffused into sheer panic. “I’ll call the cops!” “I already did.” My smile broadened. “They’re on their way to escort a crazy trespasser off my

property.” All the makeup in the world couldn’t keep Amber’s face from turning as pale as a ghost when I lit the book of matches and threw it on the fuelsoaked pile. The beautiful flash of bright orange fire consumed the fine cottons, blackened the exotic wools and melted through the plastics, and silks. Thousands of dollars worth of manipulated appreciation gone in an instant. Now all I had to do was get my damn shipment of aloe back and save my business.

13

KADE

M

y mind swirled with a thousand--mostly depressing--thoughts, as the town landscape flew by. It was a grey day and my mood certainly matched the grimness outside. On the way to the Houston airport I found myself wondering what life might have been like if I’d stayed here after high school and not joined the military. I tried hard to stop my trail of thoughts, but it was incredibly difficult. They say anxiety is thinking too much about the future, and depression comes from thinking too much about the past. Well, the way I was thinking, I was definitely heading down depression road. The crazy thing was, although I could see my thought pattern, I couldn’t really stop my mind

from wandering. I could have had a little baby like Emma with Genny. Sure, Emma cried a lot and staying up all night taking care of her would have been tough. But when Emma giggled, her laugh made the hardships worth it. What about Genny and me? I couldn’t help but crack the slightest smile thinking how we’d get a little bit angry at each other. Maybe have some crazy make up sex. Ah yes, make up sex, and then we’d fall asleep right next to each other in the same bed in each others’ arms. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I pulled up to a red light. It was only a few more miles until I would be at the interstate, and then in a couple of hours I’d be at the airport. I barely even said goodbye to Genny, but I knew if I said goodbye in person--shit--I was gonna have a hard time leaving her. My eyes unfocused as I pulled up at a red light. I turned to my right and a family of three rode in front of another vehicle. A middle aged man drove his truck, with his wife to his side in the passenger’s seat. The little baby was crying in the middle. The guy gave me a tip of his cap and I nodded back to him then refocused on the road, staring at the back of my palm. I cocked my wrist and stared

at my watch as I waited for the light to turn green. That fancy-ass watch was really the only possession I had left to remind me about my brother. I threw it on in such a frenzy the other day, I hadn’t even really examined it. I heaved a sigh. Once I left this town, I could feel that this would be “it.” My brother--and Genny--were really the only connections I had left to my small town upbringing. Sure, I had my military buddies and they were great. But I’d met them all after the age of 18. Genny was my only real anchor. Well, Genny and Emma were my anchors. I liked having them both. Goddamn, Genny tasted so sweet. She tasted like-Fuck, I needed to stop thinking this way. Anxiously, I flipped my watch on my wrist. I took it off for a moment, then turned it over. This was one hell of a long red light. When I peeked at the silver underside, something caught my eye. There was something written scratched in tiny letters visible. I hadn’t even noticed it before. 09-23-89 I furrowed my brow. What the hell did that mean? I smacked myself in the head when the realization dawned on me.

This had to be the combination for the safe. All at once I felt like life had just been breathed back into my body, and like the grimness I’d been feeling had hope at the end of it. I quickly turned on my left turn signal, then waited for the cars going in the opposite direction to pass as the light turned green. I took off, flying back to Douglas, Texas. I needed to see what was in the safe. When I got home, the house of my brother seemed brighter somehow. The white siding was cheery almost, as the sun went down on the horizon. I got out of my truck, noting the calm. The wind seemed to have died down. I rushed inside, into the back of his office where the safe was. Sure enough, the numbers clicked. I wondered what I would find inside as I turned the last number. What would it be? Gold bars maybe, a gun. What kind of stuff was my brother into? I opened the safe and a big stack of papers nearly fell out. I picked up several envelopes and looked at the outside. They were unsealed, but filled with parchment paper. My chest swelled when I saw the name they were addressed to: Kade Houston. Chills went down my spine as I fingered the envelopes. My hands started trembling and I swallowed hard.

Why would my brother have letters here addressed to me? I pulled one of them out of the envelope and start reading it:

DEAR K ADE,

J ESSICA IS 6 MONTHS PREGNANT. Isn’t that something? Geez, she got even hornier during the pregnancy. Which has been nice. Shit, is that inappropriate to mention? Or is that something brothers can talk about? I don’t know. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to you. God damn it Kade, it’s been two fucking years since I’ve even heard a peep from you. You don’t answer my calls. Or my letters. Anything. So, I stopped trying years ago. Anyways, I’m gonna continue with this letter, even though I’ll probably never mail it. Yeah, that’s right. Therapist said it’s good for me. Yes therapist. I said therapist. Hey, don’t judge. Look, I know you might not have read my last letter (because I didn’t send it) and probably didn’t see the one before that, but I’m really sorry about how things panned out. I still am. I get a weak feeling in my gut thinking about how everything went, and not the good kind. It’s not a feeling like my brother playfully punched me. It’s the bad kind

of gut-wrenching. Like I just lost something I will never get back. Anyways man, shit. I’m on glass number two of whiskey right now, so I better call it a night. I’ve only got so much more time left till I can enjoy drinking. I’m gonna give up once we have the baby. Anyways brother, hope you’re well. And remember--you can’t get the the time back that’s gone. Always look ahead.

LOVE, Jax.

HOLDING the letter tightly in my hands, I walked out to the back porch; my boots feeling extra heavy as they struck the hardwood. A cool breeze came across my skin, and suddenly my body felt so damn cold. My chest ached. My arm began to shake uncontrollably with the letter in it. I walked down to a grassy part of the backyard that extended into the forest. “What the fuck, Jax,” I muttered aloud, to absolutely noone. Hate and bitterness had consumed me for so long over how he left the family high and dry. But, had my feelings been totally misguided? Jax was so

right, I’d never truly given him a chance to explain himself. I needed to read the rest of the letters. But from the tone of that one, it surely seemed like he wanted to make up, and I was the asshole. I put my hands to my hips, inhaling deep the fresh outdoor air. I noticed some flowers in the backyard. Hmm. Odd. Seemed out of season to have bluebonnets in December--though it was still well above freezing. Just then, something caught my eye giving me pause. A blue throated hummingbird hovered between me and the flowers. My lips parted in disbelief. The beautiful bird immediately brought back a childhood memory of Jax and I--one of my few good memories before the hate and the bitterness had set in. We used to wait outside in the back for hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of any hummingbird at all. We saw a lot of them--but not once did we see the blue-throated hummingbird. In fact, it became a running joke between us. Where we gonna see the hummingbird with a blue throat? One year--I must have been eight or nine--we spent learning and tracking the migrant patterns of the different birds. The blue throated hummingbirds arrived in March and April, then left in September

and October. We never saw one. And now here I was in December. So, what the heck was this bluebird doing in my brother’s backyard? It was crazy and maybe, I was reading too much into it. My hand trembled and a breeze took the letter, blowing it out of my hand. I was about to pick it up when the the hummingbird hovered just above part of it, it’s little feet landing right in the middle of the piece of paper. All I could do was part my lips, staring in disbelief. A chill started in my toes and spread all the way to my spine, until I felt the hairs on my neck standing up. I became less and less religious over the years but seriously: What the fuck was going on. Was my brother...trying to tell me something? Nervously, I ran a hand through my hair and finally watched the bird fly away. I picked up the letter, and the bird had left a little indentation in the part where Jax had wrote: You can’t get the the time back that’s gone. Always look ahead. I went back into the house and I realized something. I fucked up big time. I never made amends with my brother when he was alive. That was on me and that was a burden I’ll

always have to bear. There was really no good way to frame that one. But on the other hand, my resolution was firm as it had ever been. I couldn’t waste the last chance I ever had to make things right with Genny. She was the only thing left in the world that mattered to me. I pulled out my phone to text her, my fingers hovering over the typepad. “Fuck,” I muttered out loud. This wasn’t a texting conversation. This was an in-person revelation. As darkness fell onto the town, I headed out the back door, got in the truck, and sped the fuck over her place.

14

GENEVIEVE

“T

he Copas don’t much care to see you,” the young boy said, eyeing me in front of the staggeringly old Copa estate. He couldn’t have been more than ten, but already had the same dour severity of his grandparents. “Well, that’s too damn bad because I’m not leaving here without my shipment of aloe.” I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “So you’d better run along and get them.” “They’re not going to like this.” The boy frowned deeper. After another moment of hesitation, he ran off. “I’m past caring about what they like. I’m done doing things their way. This is business,” I said softly to myself, building my steely reserve. Don’t let anyone else make that decision for

you. Mom’s words still burned in my heart. I was done being pushed around. I knew they were a million years old, but Aggie and Marshal were taking their sweet time getting out here to meet me. In the meantime, I strolled their parking lot and took in the three large ancient greenhouses. Between all the decaying vehicles, rusted water tank houses, and the fact that their weathered storefront was only open three hours a day on alternating weeks, the entire property had a downtrodden, forgotten-in-time look. It was amazing they were able to still function as a farm with so much outdated equipment and old world resistance to updating anything for efficiency. This was probably the least efficient way to keep a farm running. How could they not see that? I was always looking at ways to evolve and stay relevant. I was willing to look past the present and adapt for the future. Maybe this was what Mom was talking about when she said she was proud of me. The thought of my parents supporting me put a smile on my face. Not even the eventual sight of the miserable old couple, slowly walking out from the nearby farmhouse, could tarnish the feeling that my parents gave me. “We didn’t say you could clutter our doorstep with your presence,” Aggie grumbled, drying her

hands on the apron she wore around her long dress. “You best get on out of here. Nothing we can do for the likes of you, deviant.” Marshal was relatively quick to add. “That’s not true.” I walked closer so I wouldn’t have to shout over the sporadic bouts of whistling wind. “You could give me my shipment or refund me the money I gave you.” There was a long, low rumble of tires on a dirt road behind me. The Copa family farm was out in the middle of nowhere so it was easy to catch the incoming sounds of the truck. My lips pulled taut to the side of my mouth. Some part of me knew who it was, despite everything that had happened, before I glanced to check. Damn it, Kade. Not now! “Who’s this now?” Marshal squinted against the distance. “No one,” I snapped quietly, more at myself than to them. Kade came to an eventual stop, parking near me and walking up. “Are you that afraid of an elderly couple that you had to call in your thug boyfriend?” Aggie asked, bearing her fake teeth. “That’s not what this is,” I said, starting to feel the conversational momentum shift away from me. “I don’t know what he’s doing here-” “Because you can call the whole football team

if you want and this’ll still end the same way.” Aggie cut me off as confident as she was bitter. “We want you and your boyfriend to git before we go and call the mayor.” “Funny thing about political connections!” Kade called out, sidling up next to me. “Genevieve, who’s the governor of Texas?” “What the hell are you doing here?” I frowned. Kade was the last person I wanted to see after what he’d done. Kade turned to the side and whispered to me. “Trust me.” My eyes flashed angrily at him. I turned my back to the Copas and scolded Kade for being such an unrepentant asshole. “Are you fucking kidding me? You chose to run and hide in the military over staying with me twice. I’m done trusting you.” “You’re not going to beat these people with logic and reason. Familiar with the term fight fire with fire?” I gave him a flat look. I was still unconvinced. “I’ve fucked up so many things in my life, but not being here for you when you needed me was by far the worst.” He exhaled, regret and remorse shining in his dark, upturned eyes. “Hate me all you want, but please let me help you. Just this once. Please?” Damn it. I turned back to the even more irritated Copas

and finally played along. I sighed and said, “I have no idea who the governor is for Texas.” “Winston Steele,” Aggie snapped. “What’re you gettin’ at? Spit it out, boy. We can’t be wasting our day on whatever spat you’ve got with the harlot.” My eyes narrowed at the old woman, but I stayed quiet and let Kade finish. God help me, am I really stupid enough to trust the one person who’s screwed me over the most? “Poor guy,” Kade said, shaking his head. “He just lost one of his two brothers. I only know that because I’m good friends with that surviving brother. Shared tragedy and all that. Harold Steele is my Commander. Crazy little world, right?” Immediately some of the anger diffused from the faces of the Copas as the realization sank in that their far-reaching connections might not be enough this time. “Now.” Kade leaned in ever so slightly. “How do you think it’s going to look for your son, the mayor, this election season, if the governor pulls his support?” Neither of the Copas had to actually say anything for their thoughts to be read across their features. A hint of worry darkened Marshal’s grizzled brow. Aggie snorted in frustration, the network of hard lines on her face deepened. They were beginning to see the turning of the tide. Their

son being mayor was probably the only thing that kept the decrepit farm from being torn down by the board of health and safety. “We’re willing to send the remainder of the aloe, but this will be the last shipment you ever receive from us.” My face lit up. Kade actually did it! When I began to talk, telling them that I was fine with that, Kade held up a hand to stop me. “Nah.” Kade clicked the side of his mouth and shook his head. “That’s not good enough. Not anymore.” I raised a worried eyebrow at Kade. What the hell are you doing? I screamed at him, but only in my head. We won! Don’t ruin this! “Genevieve is going to need the full deposit back,” Kade remarked so casually that it was like he’d just read the weather report. “That is completely unacceptable!” Aggie barked. Fire filled her dull eyes. “Do not mistake our generosity with weakness.” “We’re willing to honor the original signed agreement,” I interjected before things got too out of hand. “The one you tore up.” I couldn’t help but get my own jab in there. “Hey that’s fair, right?” Kade smiled wide. He was as handsome as he was patronizing. When he saw neither Aggie or Marshal budge he pulled out his cell phone and started searching for a name in

the contacts. He held up Commander Steele’s cell phone number, hovering his thumb over the dial icon. “If you’re on the fence about it I can call my friend Harold and ask what he thinks.” “Fine,” Marshal relented, finally caving to the pressure. Aggie leveled a venomous gaze at him, but he didn’t acknowledge it. They knew that they’d lost. With a stiff grip on his wife’s arm, Marshal led the pair back toward the farmhouse. “We make a good team.” Kade smiled when they were out of earshot. “Bad cop and slightly less bad cop.” “I didn’t need your help.” My eyes flashed angrily. “I love you,” Kade blurted like a man who'd suddenly run out of time and didn't have a moment to lose. “What?” I was taken aback by the abruptness of the declaration. After a moment to recollect myself I started again, determined not to let him off the hook that easy. “No. You don’t get to just say that. You really hurt me. That doesn’t make-” “I’m an idiot. I got into the safe, Genny. The code was on my brother's watch.” I stubbornly held onto my anger and tried to downplay my curiosity, but I'd spent so long wondering about that safe myself that I couldn't not be interested. “Well? What was inside? Bonds or

whatever?” “Something more valuable. Perspective.” Kade offered a weak, but sincere smile. “It was filled with unsent letters, dozens of them. All addressed to me. My brother wasn't the man I thought he was. He'd tried to reach me, tried to make amends, but...” His smile faded. “I wouldn't hear him out and now I-” My eyes flashed wide when Kade choked up and couldn't finish the thought. I'd never seen him this vulnerable before. Kade cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing. “And now I'll never get that chance again. He's gone and...” Kade paused again, fighting the swell of tears and flushness that rushed to his face. All the years of suppressing these painful emotions finally came to a head. I could see it on his face. There was no running anymore. Not for Kade. “And that's on me.” He finished as strong as he could. “Sorry.” The word slipped out almost automatically because I didn't know how to reply to that. For a moment I put myself in his shoes and tried to imagine what that must've felt like. We were at opposite ends of the spectrum. He'd lost a potential connection with his brother and I'd just told my sister off. “You can’t get the time back that’s gone.” Kade

looked off into the distance and snorted as if remembering an inside joke. “Always look ahead.” “I didn't come here to blubber about the past.” Kade wiped his eyes and took a step closer. “I took a hard look at the future and, for the first time in my life, I was scared. I mean really scared. You scare the shit out of me, Genny.” I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. What was he talking about? How could I possibly frighten a Navy SEAL? “The change you represent is terrifying to me. I could be neck deep in blood and bullets and be totally fine.” Kade said. “But you… Being near you this past week made me see myself as something other than a good little soldier. You threaten not only the past eight years of my life, but my whole identity. I don't know who I am around you.” “That doesn't make any sense.” A flood of confusing emotions assaulted me on all sides. I didn't really know how I felt anymore. Everything was this haze of pain, heartache, hope, and anger. “No, it doesn't.” Kade chuckled darkly. “But it's true. I look at you and Emma and I think I can’t ever have that. That’s impossible. It's not meant for a guy like me. I’m a member of one of the most elite special operations forces. We don’t get those things. And for the longest time, I convinced myself that I didn’t even want them.” Kade dipped his

head for a moment. “But now I can’t imagine my future without them.” “What are you saying?” My voice was a breathy whisper. “That I don't deserve your trust or love,” Kade took my hands, then looked me in the eyes with a fierce determination that made my heart stutter. “But I'll happily spend the rest of my life earning them. I'm done running. I'm staying here.” I sucked in a heavy breath, that felt like it was my last, and held it for dear life. That lightning storm of emotions broke and joy and hope poured out like rain. I might be a fool for believing him, but... “I can live with that.” “Thank you,” he whispered. An enormous smile split Kade's face and he swept me up in the biggest hug of my life. We kissed and cried, and laughed. Having him back this week was the best thing that had happened to me in such a long time. I don't think I could've gotten through this hard time without him. Exhausted from the emotional gymnastics, we touched foreheads and basked in everything that could be, everything that now would be. I was happier in that moment than the rest of my life combined. Until a flash of worry burned across my mind and heart. I pulled away from Kade, urgency, and

determination now maring my face. “Emma!” Suddenly Kade was gone and only the Navy SEAL remained. “Let's go get our daughter back.”

15

KADE

L

ater, at my brother’s house, Genny sank into me and we snuggled on the couch. She did a double take when I told her my plan to get Emma back. “So you’re going to just call her and ask for the baby back? You already gave her away though?!” I nodded and dialed my cousin's number. She picked up after two rings. “Kade?” She sounded surprised. “Hey, Jessica. How are you? How’s everything?” I asked, my tone overly nonchalant. Genny leaned her head onto my shoulder as I prepared to ask a very difficult question that was going to require a spin. “Everything is good. Emma is great. Wow, she’s a cute baby.” “Oh yeah? What’s she been up to?”

“Uh, well, she’s been doing what babies do. Eating, sleeping and pooping.” I cracked up a little bit. “I mean, I’m no baby expert but that’s good right?” She laughed. “Yeah, so what’s up? What did you call about?” “Well,” I started. “There something I wanted to ask you. It’s a little bit out of the ordinary but--” I glanced at Genny, who was intently watching me with her eyes tilted up as she leaned on my shoulder. “So, this is odd I know but, my partner and I are thinking about starting our own family and I’m just wondering if maybe we would able to borrow Emma for like a couple more days to see what it’s like to have a baby.” Jessica paused, then cleared her throat. “So, you want to just borrow Emma for a little bit? I mean we’re all the way in Austin.” “Oh, that’s not a problem. I’ve got my truck. I can come by and I still even have that car seat,” I said with a wink. “Why are you winking?” Genny whispered. “You know they can’t see you, right?” I gave Genny my best ‘I’ve got this under control’ head nod. “You’re killing me Kade,” she said, and I could practically see Jessica rolling her eyes. “I mean, she’s really cute...we’re sort of getting attached to

her.” “Just one day. I know it’s a weird request. But I’ve gotten back together with a girl and...” I say as I throw my hands up in the air. Not like she can see it anyway. She let out an exasperated exhale. “So, it’s a matter of love?” “You could say that.” She takes a long, drawn out pause before she finally speaks. “Fine, but you do realize this is incredibly odd right?” I pumped my first, and Genny wrapped her arms around me. “Yeah. I got it,” I said. “We just want to have like a run with her. Like a dry run.” “Well, we can promise you it won’t be like a dry run. The way Emma’s been pooping and--” I cracked up, and Jessica did too. My laughter veiled the relief I was feeling at getting “just one more day” with Emma. If I had my way--I was going to turn that one more day into a decade and beyond. Now that I knew the truth about my brother and how much he tried to be there for me, I wanted to raise Emma as my own. Hell, I needed to. It wasn’t my choice, it was my God-given duty. “Me and Genny will make the drive down tomorrow. Sound good?” Genny let out a sigh. “Alright then, I will see

you tomorrow morning.” I hung up, stared at my phone and set it aside, in a sort of shocked state. “Did I really just do that?” “You did. And I’m kind of confused,” Genny said, scrunching up her face at me. “I still don’t quite understand how you changed so much so quickly. I’m still processing all of this. And you know--just because you’re staying here doesn’t mean we are going to get married tomorrow or something like that.” I pulled her into me for a tender kiss. Her lips were so soft - like pillows. And the way her body pressed into me made my soul feel good. Yes. She could touch my soul in a way no one had--and could. Except maybe Emma. “This trip has been a whirlwind, psychologically. And I can show you better than I could tell you,” I said, standing up. “Follow me.” I led her by the hand to my brother’s office. Taking a knee, I opened the safe and showed her the letters that my brother had written to me. “My brother wrote all of these. He tried to mail some, but they never made it. So he just decided to write them and store them here. But they’re all addressed to me. Here.” As she read, Genny’s eyes glossed over. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed, her face flushed. She walked up, wrapped her arms around me hard,

giving me a hug. “This is crazy right? You two were always at each other’s throats. In high school, all I remember you saying was how much you hated him for abandoning your family.” I nodded. “I feel like a total asshole and it made me think, you know? It made me think a lot. After all these years of resenting my brother as the favorite son, it turns out that was a total lie. All of that was built on falsehoods. I lost my relationship with my only brother because I was too bullheaded.” I hesitated, clearing a knot in my throat. She released her hug, but kept her hand wrapped around my forearm. “Look at this one,” I said, handing her another. “It was a letter to me from my brother saying how he used to... Goddamn. I can’t even tell you. Here, just read it.” I showed her another one of the letters that I looked at this morning. Kade, There’s no easy way to tell you this. I know we had our differences growing up and you never had to see the cross of it. You never have to know what a monster our dad was. I tried to keep it from you. The drinking and the headaches. Those days, I was able to shield a lot of stuff that was going on from you. I know I wasn’t perfect either over the years, but here, I want you to know you can be a better man too. Don’t be a standard of a man that I was, or our father was. Everyone

has a destiny. I can tell you that but I can’t tell you what yours is. That’s something you discover for yourself. Shit man, alright. I’m gonna end this letter. Maybe it’s the whiskey talking, but, I love you brother, even if you’ll never respond to this. Love, Jax

TEARS ROLLED down both of Genny’s cheeks as she read his words. We held each other’s bodies tight and her cheek rested on my chest. My head was basically on top of hers as we stood together. I leaned down and nibbled on her ear and said something that I always wanted to say, but maybe I was too afraid getting hurt. “I thought about my destiny,” I said. “And, I’m not saying Jax’s letter was the only thing that made me think this way. In fact, I’ve already been considering it, but this was the tipping point. I love you Genny. You are my destiny. I know that. I’ve always been like that. I tried to run away from it, from you. I thought maybe the time away would make me feel different. I didn’t. I still feel the same way. You can run if you want. That’s fine. This is probably really sudden. I’ll give you all the time you want. Now, I’m not perfect. I know that. Hell, you know that. But, I’d rather be with someone

who sees me for all my imperfections...And, someone who I’m not pretending with.” “Oh God, Kade,” she whispered. Our lips met, closing the space between us and I pulled back for just a minute. “What?” She asked. I grinned. “Good God, you’re hot,” I said. “That’s all.” I pushed her up against the wall and we continued making out furiously. Fuck, I wanted this woman. It had been eight long years since we’d done this. And now she was mine for the taking again. I ran my hand over her hair while she wrapped hers around my neck, hooking her fingers into me. “Fuck, Kade. I’ve thought about this for so long. For so damn long.” I grumbled as she reached into my jeans, rubbing my cock over the cloth of my briefs. “Kade, you’re hard,” she mewled. “Oh baby, yeah. I know,” I said. “What the fuck do you expect from me? You expect me to make up here with you, pushing you into this wall without getting hard. It’s been eight years since I’ve been inside you, Genny. Do you remember what that feels like, to have me inside you?” “Yes,” she breathed, barely audible. “Do you remember how tight you were, that first night I took you? How slow we had to go?

How we laughed about it and then practiced for weeks after school when your mom wasn’t home?” “Oh God. Yes.” She squirmed as I tugged at her ear with my teeth. “And you, you’re wet. Aren’t you, Genny.” She nodded. “Let’s see just how wet are you.” I reached my hand around to her stomach, then pulled her pants down along with her panties. I kneeled in front of her and kissed her clit. Watching her. And she was watching me. She moaned, threading her fingers through my hair. “Kade. Be gentle, please. It’s been a while.” I licked the lips of her pussy eagerly, lapping her up. Smiling, I stood up for a second and she reached her hand under my briefs, feeling the flesh of my cock. I groaned as I ran my hand over her slick opening. “Damn, you’re so wet. I don’t really think we need this” I say, cocking my head toward my jeans pocket. I grabbed the bottle of her lube from my pants pocket which I saved just in case. “Oh my gosh. Have you been walking around with that?” I shrugged. “You never know when you’ll need it,” I

winked. “I mean. I’ve heard this is the best stuff in the business.” She pulled me closer by my waist. She helped me unbuckle my belt and slipped my jeans off my waist. “Erm...” She gasps. “Is this?” I smirked at her dropped jaw. “You’ve gotten bigger since then?” “Hey. Who knows?” I said and I held her head back up. “There’s one way we can find out.” Her eyes widened as I pulled my shoes and pants off. Without either of us taking our shirts off, I pressed the head of my cock along her smooth opening. When I took Genny’s v-card it had been candlelit. Sweet. Everything she’d asked for, I’d given it to her. This time was different. This was desperation. Our need was palpable, and the air smelled like sex and sweat. She gasped as I pushed the head of my cock across her opening, dragging it back and forth to tease her. “Oh, that is...Oh God. Oh that is gonna--” I arched an eyebrow. “It’s gonna feel good,” I said. “That’s gonna break me in two.” She muttered, closing her eyes as I pressed into her. “Oh.” “Look at me baby,” I commanded and she

opened her light brown eyes at me. Her lips parted in awe. “Did you think we were gonna do this again?” she managed to ask a coherent question in the middle of my cock being part way inside her. All I could do was tell her the truth, through my sex haze. “No. No way. I thought I’d never see you again. What about you?” Her eyes came alive, and she nodded. “I had a feeling we would.” She moaned, rocking her hips into me as I pushed my full length inside her. She tensed up a bit at my size and gripped my ass with her hand. I frantically pulled up her shirt and she straightened her arms, aiding me in getting the thing off. I ripped my shirt off too, and she ran her hands over my finally exposed torso. “Fuck, I miss this.” I said, running my hand up her torso as I continue to fuck her. I ran my hand down on the smooth skin of her tits. Licked her nipples as we fucked against the wall. We fucked like animals. I heaved a deep breath as we found our rhythm, tingles spreading all through my body from my toes to my fingertips. “Oh fuck it. Come here.” I said, stepping back. I fell into a chair without armrests and instructed her to straddle me. She did, throwing her hair back and arching her back as we found the perfect angle.

Bouncing up and down on my hard length, I could feel her clenched around me. “Oh God. Kade. I’m already. I’m going. I’m coming. Fuck.” She muttered a disjointed mumble. “Yeah. Come for me baby. Just like getting back on your favorite bike, isn’t it.” I growled. She clenched around me and folded her abdomen partially into me and stops. “Kade, I’m coming again.” She moaned. “Me too,” I said, wrapping her arms around me. My cock twitched as I came hard. When we were done, she fell into my arms. “That was...crazy,” She breathed into my ear. “It felt different this time. After all the times we’ve done this. But this time was for real.” “This time...” She opened her eyes and looked at me. “What was different about this time?” “This time, I know it’s forever.”

EPILOGUE GENEVIEVE

“O

ne dash. That’s good, right?” Kade hovered over my shoulder and rocked a happily babbling, Emma. Emma was thirteen months old now and she was about to find out if she was going to have a sibling. It was hard to believe we’d already had her for half a year. It was hard to believe a lot of things that happened recently. “Ah shit! Two dashes.” Kade looked down, with a discouraged frown. “Wait is two dashes bad? Or is that the amount of dashes we want?” “That’s a countdown, you big dope. It’s almost ready.” I laughed, sitting cross-legged on our bed, and looking up at him, the warm bemusement he made me feel took a little of the anxiety out of my grin. “You bought the tests for me. How do you not

know how this works?” “I was too excited to read the directions.” Kade shrugged. They both looked down at my home pregnancy test with rapt anticipation. Although I was pretty sure Emma was only faking it. She was already walking and was well on her way to becoming even more of a little handful. God, are we really ready for two? Things had moved so fast in the last six months. We’d talked about this a lot after the formal adoption, and it wasn’t a decision we came to lightly. In the end, despite how hectic and influx our lives were during the holidays, we still wanted Emma to have a sibling, someone to grow up with. After spending some time reading Jax’s letters, Kade started to see his brother in another, more sympathetic, light. That, of course, made forgiving himself for cutting Jax off and not making amends that much harder. Kade decided to keep his brother’s house and honor his memory instead of selling it, which felt like a good step. I was all for the decision. I liked the idea of giving Emma another tangible connection to her birth parents. “Hey.” Kade grabbed my hand. “We’re ready for this. We got this.” “We don’t got this.” I felt a little overwhelmed. “I know.” Kade’s concerned look melted into a loving smile. “But, at least we don’t got this

together.” “Friggin’ cheese ball,” I protested, pushing against him, which only moved me backwards. I wiped the stressed tears of happiness and worry from my face and was thoroughly reminded that, at least with Kade, I had made the right decision. I knew that because of just how much he’d sacrificed to stay here with me. While going through the adoption process we found out that if he legally took responsibility for Emma, while being unmarried, technically that made him a single parent in the eyes of the government. That meant he was no longer eligible to serve. In essence, he had a choice; a past he’d always known or an uncertain future with me and Emma. I urged him to take some time and think everything over, but he wasn’t having any of that. He just smiled and said, “always look ahead.” That afternoon he’d gone from active to veteran. I loved him so damn much. We really were a great team. I gave him the stability he craved, and he bolstered my confidence when it came to running both Shepherd Soaps and openly advertising Lick It Lube. The town of Douglas hated our deviance, but that didn’t matter. After a post holiday lull, sales had only picked up. Before long we had more lube sales in one month than Shepherd soaps had all year.

Kade also found us another purple aloe distributor in southern California who was more friendly to the idea of sex lube, and with Kade’s connections, the Copas and the mayor stayed away from us. Ironically, it was my sister Amber who was most responsible for Lick It Lube’s booming success. Her video, “Douglas, Texas is now Kinky AF. And it’s all thanks to my sister,” exploded with views. For as embarrassing as it was to be dancing around like a goof in that video, it introduced so many people to my brand. I had so many orders now that even with Kade helping out full time, it still wasn’t enough. I was looking at hiring people and maybe even looking into a larger space. That, of course, was also super overwhelming, but Kade had my back. He stepped in with his special forces efficiency and picked up all the slack. Amber’s YouTube channel was flagged for posting a bunch of other people’s copyrighted songs and videos, and was eventually shut down. When that happened, her fanbase basically evaporated and she was forced to find an actual job like the rest of us. We don’t speak anymore, but I see Amber every once in awhile at the local grocery store. She’s by far the best-dressed cashier they’ve ever had. “Hey Hey Hey,” Kade exclaimed pointing

down at my test. His excitement made Emma giggle and coo. “It says the word Pregnant. I know that’s good!” “Oh, man…” I laughed nervously, lowering the positive test. I was equal parts happy and terrified. “We’re really doing this huh?” “That’s not all were doing.” Kade put Emma in her playpen and pulled out a small black leather box. “Is that?” My eyes flashed, finishing my sentence for me. “You’re damn right it is!” Kade opened the box and dropped to a knee at the foot of our bed. “I told you I was all in. I never want to be without you again, Genevieve. What do you say?” Kade’s sexy smile widened, and there was a twinkle in his dark eyes. “You want to make a whole bunch of mistakes with me?” “Yes.” I laughed, openly crying now. “But only for the rest of our lives.” Kade shot up, and shouted with joy, which startled Emma. He kissed me, then rushed over to kiss Emma, then dove on the bed and smothered me in more kisses. I couldn’t believe how far we’d come, and how far we had left to go, but I was finally excited about the journey. This might’ve been the end of one story, but it was definitely the beginning to another.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR JACKSON KANE

Jackson Kane is a professional stuntman, athlete, romance author, and above all else, a hopeless romantic. From American Ninja Warrior, to some of your favorite films, Jackson brings a unique writing style forged from countless harrowing adventures.

He’s a lover of travel, his fans, his romance author peers, dulce de leche, and all things beautifully weird and interesting. He invites you to relax, have a whiskey sour and let him thrill and excite you in a way no other author can.

Jackson will show you what the world looks like through the eyes of a genuine Bad Boy. Come with him, and read dangerously.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR MICKEY MILLER

After college, Mickey Miller lived in South America for three years, where his love of writing was officially born. Soon after, he studied screenwriting and improv at the Second City School in Chicago.

His dream screenplay, a Sex and the City-ish storyline told from a guy's point of view, didn't work out (yet!). But when he discovered the romance genre, he found a home with amazing readers who share his love of heartfelt, hot, and often hilarious storylines.

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JACKSON KANE

Copyright © 2018 Jackson Kane All rights reserved. Billionaire Takes All is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. They are not to be construed in any way. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover design by Cormar Covers Edited by Alice Anne Evans and Julie Ahern Special thanks: Jennifer Cothran, Theresa Esterline, Charlie Weaver, Lindsay Larkin, Danielle

Stewart, Tana Wheeler, and Tracy Vincent

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BILLIONAIRE TAKES ALL JACKSON KANE - A BONUS NOVEL

PROLOGUE LUCAS

I

just lost my half of five billion dollars. Five. Billion. Fucking dollars. I crushed the phone in my hand, but the voicemail chimed in my brain like church bells at midnight. It was probably the same message my brother just got. “Your father is dying. The inheritance is no longer yours or your brother’s. If you want a chance at that money, you’re going to have to play by some… unconventional rules.” Rules? Fuck that! I didn’t get this far by following anyone’s rules. “Only one of you can win,” The message said. “The other gets nothing.” But I did know one thing: if this really was a competition between my brother and I for the whole King fortune, I was going to win.

That’s probably exactly what Richard is saying right now too. He and I hate each other, we have for years. With my hand throbbing, I flexed my fingers. The final sentence of that damn message had flipped my life upside down and kicked it down the fucking sidewalk. “Good luck, Lucas. You’re going to need it.” One thing’s for sure, our sleepy town of Caldwell Hope is in for a rude awakening. When the King brothers come back home all hell’s breaking loose.

LUCAS ONE

“E

xcuse me,” the woman’s voice was as sweet and distant as a pleasant dream. Grass beneath me, the sounds of cars busily rushing by, the briskly intermittent breeze and the bathing warmth of the sun. Fuck, I was outside. I hated waking up outside. The birds were the worst pressure point on my massive hangover. Their sharp tweets cut through my ears like an ice pick. “Hello, shirtless man? You can't be here,” said the voice more insistently. Was I still dreaming? It sounded way too familiar to be anything but a dream. I covered my face, fighting the waking world, determined to go back to sleep. I had no idea what

time it was, but I knew that it was way too damn early for me to be coherent. “Excuse me,” the woman repeated, getting closer. She was trying to hide the bookish timidity from her voice. That voice was crazy familiar... “For Christ's sake you're excused.” I grumbled as loudly as I could, shifting my arm to further shield my face the relentless sunlight. “Now let me sleep.” She scoffed at my bluntness. The kick in the ribs I received wasn't bookish or sweet. “Fuck me, that's a rude way to treat a guest.” I recoiled, rolling away onto my stomach. My long, dirty-blond hair cascaded down both sides of my face as I lifted myself from a push up position. Once I got my knees under me I shot a quick glance at her, but my eyes hadn't adjusted fully so I only caught a glimpse before the intensity of the sun forced me to look away. Her long, layered, brown hair had soft curls and was pulled back into a ponytail. She had a slight, yet athletic frame, and wore a gray dress. Was that the glint of glasses I saw? Wasn't the girl last night a redhead? I also didn't remember her being this gorgeous... “Rude?! Guest?!” Her tone screamed the gall of this man!

That didn't make any sense. I distinctly remember being invited to the party last night by a few fans. They wanted me here. Why was I being yelled at? My ears were still faintly humming from all the music I had played. I carelessly rubbed my sore chest and abs to get off the matted grass and dirt. It was a useless effort; all my tattoos made the mess impossible to see, let alone brush off. I desperately needed a shower. I cocked my head to the side, and through my hanging hair caught the pretty brunette gawking. She could try to hide it, but I could tell that she liked what she saw. Damn right, I thought. I don’t work out five times a week to not look good. “Yeah, guest. You invited me.” My long hair blanketed my head like an overturned mop. With the speed and precision of someone who was just hit by a car, I grabbed the wadded fabric in my back pocket and pulled out a purple G-string. “These are yours aren’t they?” “Eww, no! And this is school property. No one invited you to sleep here!” “What?” I flipped my hair back and took in the surroundings. If they weren't hers, then where the hell was I? The long rectangular building loomed nearby, obviously some kind of school. I spotted the playground peeking out from the back of the nicely

remodeled building. Oh wonderful. I'm shirtless and reeking of booze in front of an elementary school. Definitely not one of the high points of my life... Yeah, this won't make it into my autobiography. I was glad it was Saturday. At least I hoped it was Saturday... Either way there were no children around, thankfully. Although, I'd probably make a good example of what not to do when you grow up. Then it got worse. I spotted the name on the building—Matt Baker Elementary school. Matt Baker. That's where I was? “Oh shit…” I muttered. That's why she looked and sounded so familiar. “Your eyes... Hazel,” she said in wistful tones, not trusting her own eyes. My face puckered up and my eyes clamped shut as if bracing for a hit. Stupidity always hurt much more than physical pain. Of all the places I could've drunkenly stumbled last night, why'd I pick here? I fucked up. Bad. “Luke?” Molly Baker gasped; the dream of her past finally becoming real. Just waking up, being hung over and crashing in an unfamiliar place was a perfect storm for my brain to be a fucking wreck. Still... There was no excuse. I should've known much sooner.

I'd heard that voice every night while I slept for ten long years. I snapped my eyes open and saw her. Really saw her. Suddenly I was as awake as someone who got a shot of adrenaline straight to the vein. My heart began to claw its way into the back of my throat. It really was her... She was impossibly prettier than I remembered. “Molly.” The name tumbled from my lips. I needed a few more lifetimes to figure what to say to her. I'm sorry. I didn't know. It wasn't my choice to leave you. Every day I wanted to come back for you. Every single day. I knew every inch of Molly's sun-kissed skin and the way her light freckles were only visible in some light. Her lips were glossy pink pillows made of clouds on a perfect afternoon and her eyes were the color of amber at dusk. I'd always thought about what this moment would be like if it ever happened. I'd planned it a thousand times in a thousand ways. Sometimes she'd be walking by when I'd stop her and tell her how much I missed her. Other times I'd just show up at her door, and ask her out so I could explain everything. Every time I met her in my head it was on my terms and usually with a bouquet of flowers. So much for best laid plans…

I at least thought I'd have more clothes on when we met. “Molly I—” the crack of her knuckles stole the rest of my sentence and snapped my head back. “Ow, shit. That hurt!” Molly's arm recoiled. She scowled, shaking the pain out of her hand. “OK, I deserved that.” I wiped the blood trickling down my nose. It was a good punch, but she didn't break anything. It did however kick my headache into overdrive. Fortunately it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Especially not when there was so much to say. “Where'd you learn how to punch like that?” “I picked up a few things in the ten years since you abandoned me.” Molly rubbed her sore knuckles. “Molly, I'm—” “Don't you dare.” She balled her fists back up. Was she going to punch me for trying to apologize? “You don't get to do that. You can't just roll into town without a word, say you’re sorry and expect everything to be forgiven.” “This wasn't the way I was hoping this would go.” I licked the blood off my teeth and wiped my mouth and light beard again. “We don't always get what we want, do we?” Her beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “I see you've stayed busy.” Her eyes flicked down at the thong in my fist.

“These aren’t mine.” I sighed. No shit. “I mean these aren’t what you think—” I wish I wasn’t so hung over. This looked much worse than it was. The redhead at the party stuffed them into my pocket and said they were the key to her bedroom. I left shortly after that. I never made it into the house, let alone her bedroom. I definitely never touched her. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.” Fuck! There was no way Molly would believe what really happened. I was a rock star with all the trappings—fans, groupies, the whole nine yards... Hell, I wouldn't believe me. What no one knew was that getting underwear thrown at me was a surprisingly common occurrence. Sometimes it didn't even happen while I was on stage. There's another side to fame that no one gives a shit about. The sad, honest truth was that I hadn't had sex with anyone in a long time. I looked around for a trash can and saw one near where my bike was parked, but I wasn't ready to leave things like this with Molly. I shoved the panties back into my pocket. What else could I do? I wasn't about to throw them on the lawn of an elementary school, especially not one named after her dead brother. “The new school looks nice.” I began

remembering how I got here. This was my first stop when I came into town last night. I heard the renovations were finally finished and I had to see it with my own eyes. “Anonymous donation. It turns out there are nice, thoughtful people in the world after all.” “Yeah… I’m sorry to hear about Matt.” “Don’t. Just…” Molly took a deep breath and exhaled. “I want you to go, Luke.” “Molly. Wait a second.” I took a step in and grabbed her arms. Her perfume wafted up between us. She smelled like heaven. Now that she was so close, it was hard to stop myself from hugging her like when we were kids. If I did that I'd never be able to let her go. Why couldn't we have that again? I could see the spark in her eyes and it wasn't just because I was half naked. I knew those looks. I saw them all the time from girls that only saw me as a rock star or as a ripped piece of meat. Molly's was different. Yeah, I could feel her pulse and breath racing. I knew she was still attracted to me, but there was so much more in those brown eyes. There was pissed off anger and pain. And beyond that there was something else. There was still a glimmer of the girl I used to know back before it all fell to shit. And I could never truly give up on that girl.

Ever. Her expression softened and her eyes turned up, then closed. She was allowing herself to just feel. So much time had passed, but what we had was truly special. You couldn’t just recover from something like that. It stayed with you for the rest of your life. “A day hasn’t gone by where I didn’t think about you.” The distance between us evaporated like boiling water. “I’m so sorry I had to leave.” “This time don't come back.” Molly pulled her arms away at the last moment and turned her back on me. “I've moved on.” Molly walked away from me.

RICHARD TWO

“G

reetings, Master King. I'll be your driver for the duration of your stay in Caldwell Hope.” The driver introduced himself once I stepped out of the open door. I nodded in acknowledgment, and he immediately began loading my luggage from my jet into the short white limo. Even through my dark sunglasses, my eyes needed a moment to adjust against the midday glare that boiled off the runway's tarmac. The cloudless sun turned my throbbing hangover into a stabbing spike. I desperately needed coffee. I snapped open the top button of my collared shirt. It was hot in a way that only the southwestern states got in late spring. It was probably going to be

a scorcher of a summer. Fortunately I wouldn't be here long enough to find out. My driver finished with the luggage, then straightened his posture and opened the limo door for me. He thoughtfully added, “Welcome home, Sir.” “Home,” I rolled the word around in my mouth like an expensive wine that was too bitter for my palate. Not for me. Not anymore. Once this meeting with my father and brother was finished, Caldwell Hope, would go back to being a place I rarely thought about and never visited. The lovely British flight attendant leaned against the doorway wearing only a towel and a satisfied smile. My white Panama hat hung limply in her hand. She was a talented girl and was just what I needed to make the trip back here tolerable. I gave her an easy smile and a kiss on the cheek, then took the hat and put it on. That was better. I straightened my vest and brushed down my tailored pants, then stepped into the air conditioned car. With a good hat and a nice watch I could be buck naked and still feel comfortable. “Are you from around here, James?” I asked the chauffeur. He was surprisingly young. I was thirty-one, and this was the first time I'd ever had a driver who was younger than me.

“Yes, Sir. Born and raised.” “Fantastic. Do you know the way to the Village Bean? I need a coffee.” There was no way I was going to deal with whatever my father had in store for us without some caffeine to clear my head. “Call me Richard. I get enough 'Sirs' at the office.” “I'm sorry, S-” James had to catch himself as it probably went against everything he'd been taught. “The Village Bean closed about ten years ago I believe. I know another place that's just as good, if you'd like.” Ten years? Had I really been gone that long? I quickly did the math and realized it was actually longer than that. What else had changed? I agreed and James drove us into town. My quiet, little prison had apparently flourished over the years and become quite the vacation spot. The familiar low mountains framed the downtown strip, but almost everything else had changed or been updated. Bouquets of pink and white flowers hung in the rough-hewn brick buildings that connected several trendy looking shops. The whole area, down to the signage, had a unified, quaint theme about it. It had certainly grown more charming in my absence. We slowed to a stop outside a record store. I was about to ask him about it when I spotted the A-

shaped sign on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Black Rocket Records,” the sign said. Beneath that it bragged, “We dare you to find a better damn cup of coffee.” The place had style. That's for sure. James asked what he could get for me, but I waved him off. The record store had piqued my interest, and after the long flight I wanted to stretch my legs anyway. I took my hat and sunglasses off as I walked in. Black Rocket Records was more than just its namesake. There were racks of old books, records, novelties, coffee bar and even a stage for live music. Teenagers' paradise. Heads started turning and a few people stepped out of my way. It might have been a long time since I'd been back here, but people had TVs and smart phones. They knew who I was. I smiled back at a few pretty girls and shook one guy’s hand who let me cut in front of him at the coffee line. I wasn't looking for special treatment, but who was I to say no? The line was only a few people long and no else seemed to have a problem with it so I stepped up to the ordering station. “Hello?” I asked, looking around. The wall behind the register was lined with all sorts of fancy presses, slow drips, steamers and brewing stations. They were all actively in the process of doing…something.

I leaned forward resting my cufflinks atop a glass counter top—which encapsulated an elaborate collage of Alice in Wonderland pictures —and asked again, louder this time. It was all very trendy, but where was the barista? “One second!” A strained female voice sharply called up from beneath the bar. “How many?” “I'd like a coffee?” Why would they want to know how many before what kind? “Yeah, no shit. How many?” The annoyed voice snapped back. I cocked an eyebrow at the rudeness of the disembodied voice. I couldn't even remember the last time someone took that tone with me. No, thanks, I thought prepping to leave. There are plenty of other coffee places in town. I was in the process of turning to leave when the barista finally popped straight up with a stack of cups in each arm. She was short, petite, had a shock of short black hair and was pale enough to make a vampire envious. She wore a faded, black, obscure band Tshirt, had glittering studs running up both her ears, and eye shadow dark enough to drain the light from the room. I'd never been into the alt-rock girls, but right away I could tell there was something very different about this one.

I glanced down her slight form for a name tag, but of course she didn't have one. Maybe it was that she was so far from the perfect blonde Hollywood type that got my blood pumping. Or maybe it was her eyes. She had these light gray irises that crackled like storm clouds before a hard rain. Suddenly coffee was the last thing on my mind. Who was this girl? “Well?” the barista asked impatiently, wiping the sweat from her face with the crook of her elbow. “Caffè Macchiato,” I started my order, but was quickly interrupted with an annoyed look and an upraised index finger. I followed the pointing gesture to a sign above her head that read, “Coffee made our way. Deal with it.” “Are you always this rude? Or am I just the lucky punching bag today?” The barista narrowed her eyes. “That's kind of our whole deal here. That and I don't like those that cut in line.” How had she even seen me? Was she part ninja? I was just about to protest that they all let me pass when a tall blonde woman stepped up behind the barista, cutting her off. “Hi there! I'm Judy.” She was as chipper as the

dark haired girl was not. It was a stark contrast. “I saw your interview on the Late Show. You did such a good job. So handsome in that pinstripe suit! It's so nice to meet you! We're more of a self serve kind of place, but we can make an exception for one of the Kings of Caldwell Hope. That was a Caffè Macchiato, right?” Her voice was cotton candy and her cadence was rapidly popping popcorn. Did this woman ever breathe? Now I desperately needed the coffee just to follow this conversation. “Hi.” I squeezed the greeting in somewhere between her flood of words. “Yes, ma’am.” “Gloria makes it much better than I could ever dream of!” Judy switched from me to her ravenhaired partner. “Would you mind?” She held up her hands in a pleading motion then mouthed the word “Please.” I smiled at their unlikely dynamic. It was obvious that they were peers, probably co-owners. How did that work? I couldn't imagine two people more different. They were the sun and the moon. Gloria sighed at Judy's cheeriness, then walked off toward the self service station without giving me another glance. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she left. When she stepped out from the bar I could see her mid-thigh-length black skirt and milky, smooth legs.

The sight of her slight form swaying got my blood pumping. Judy told me the coffee was on the house, then asked for a selfie with me. I obliged, distractedly. I caught Gloria looking over at me discretely as she made my coffee. It gave me an unexpected thrill. I might have to come back here and see her again before I flew out of town. “Here,” Gloria said, handing me the drink. Her voice had a bite to it that deepened my smirk. “Your Majesty.” I thought about getting Gloria's number, but when I looked up she was already ringing out another customer. I slipped a fifty into the tip jar and flashed Gloria a wink, then I left. Outside James waited with his arms behind his back. He opened the car door for me as I approached. The coffee smelled delicious, but was still too hot to drink. I peeled the cover off to help it cool faster and slowed to a stop when I saw the design. “Is everything alright?” James asked, easily seeing the intrigued expression on my face. “I hope there wasn't a mix up.” In the brown and white of the foamed milk topped coffee was the artistically drawn image of a cock and balls; throbbing veins and all. “No.” I glanced back through the glass doors and took a scalding sip. Her outline was clear in the

lit room. The glare and the distance made it impossible to make out her stormy eyes, but I had the feeling that Gloria was still watching me. I smiled as I looked at her. “This one has my name written all over it.”

LUCAS THREE

P

ulling up to my father's fifty million dollar mansion, I'm reminded just how different I am from the rest of the family. The sprawling stone and glass building was beautifully integrated into the gently slopping hill at the far end, giving it a natural look and blending it into the lush green surroundings nearly seamlessly. An unbroken view of Caldwell Hope stretched out in the valley below in all its glory. Blue-tipped mountains seemed to cradle the property and framed the house in a way that would make postcards jealous. This was a castle fit for a King who liked to watch over his kingdom. I slowed my bike as I crested the driveway and made my way toward the garage and main entrance. There was no front yard. Instead there

was a massive man-made pond and waterfall. The early afternoon was cloudy enough that the accent lighting which ran up each pillar was visible in the shimmering water before it, making the already huge house look much bigger. If you could hire God for architecture side work this was what he'd build. I killed the engine and sighed at the picturesque tranquility of it all. Yeah, it was pretty. All of it was super impressive...in a fucking useless and selfish way. So much money wasted that could've been put to better use. Of course, I didn't think that way when Molly and I were lovestruck kids and I was trying to impress her. That was a lifetime ago when everything made sense. Seventeen years old and we had it all figured out. We were going to be together forever. Forever wasn't as long as it used to be... No matter how far I ran, thoughts of Molly were always just a heartbeat away. I clenched my jaw at the familiar pain. Seeing her today was going to fuck with me for a long time. I hadn’t been here a full day yet and I already wish I'd never come back. “Greetings, Master King,” the young valet called out from the opening garage door and rushed out to meet me. My father's extensive classic car

collection glistened against the polished white floors and overhead lights. It was less a garage and more of a showroom. I snorted out a chuckle. Here I was, a billionaire heir, and the only vehicle I owned at the moment was a motorcycle. “Hey, kid. You got an extra shirt?” I laid my jacket over the bike's seat and stretched out the road soreness. It was too warm for thick leather when I wasn't riding. “I don't think so, but I can have someone pick one up for you.” “It's cool. Don't worry about it.” I checked my phone. I was only about two hours late for lunch. Not bad for me. What the fuck happened to my shirt? At some point last night I lost it, but when? “Uh, sir?” The apprehension in the way the valet looked at my bike was clear as day. His job was to park and maintain cars. He probably had no idea what to do with my beat up motorcycle. It didn't help that I'd parked it in the dead middle of the driveway, blocking the easiest path into one of the garage bays. “Leave it.” I shrugged off his concern, spotting my brother Richard, who'd just stepped out the front door on his phone. I walked toward the inevitable argument. “I won't be staying long.” Richard hung up the phone as I ascended the

final steps to the front door landing. We stood there for a long moment, sizing each other up. Even in the growing heat of late spring, Richard was immaculately manicured in his expensive threepiece suit. “You're late,” he said, behind thick sunglasses. He crossed his arms disapprovingly and flashed an expression that said he wasn't impressed. Richard was tall, clean shaven and had a pretentious sidefade and short shock-top hairstyle that was all the rage these days. He looked like someone smashed together the covers of GQ and Forbes magazines. “That depends on your perspective.” My posture stiffened, chest out, shoulders rolled back. He might've been able to make lawyers and other CEOs piss themselves, but he'd never been able to intimidate me. “I got here exactly when I wanted to.” We both had the same color hair and eyes, but other than that we couldn't be any more different. He was taller than me, but I was more muscular. If it ever came down to it, I’d take him apart in a real fight. “You expect the world to adjust itself to your every whim.” “I don't expect a damn thing from anyone.” I shrugged. “I just do what I want.” “They say that every seven years each cell in

your body has been replaced. You're an entirely new person. So why is it that I'm still talking to a seventeen year old boy who still can't handle a shred of responsibility like arriving somewhere on time.” My brother was such a judgmental prick. He'd made it perfectly clear that I was wrong for doing my own thing. I didn't want college or grad school, I wanted music. I didn't want to be groomed to fall in line with the family business like some good little duckling. I wanted to tour with my band. “Spare me your fortune cookie wisdom. Ten years later you're still a dick, Dick.” It'd been at least that long since we had an actual conversation, but from the look on his face I could tell he still didn't like the nickname. “Growing up doesn't mean putting on an overpriced suit and firing people.” “This is coming from a guy who doesn't even have a shirt. You lose it in a fight or a card game?” “Dunno. Last night was pretty hazy. Whatever happened, I'm sure it was a hell of a good time.” When given the option, it was impossible for me not to try and rile him up. There was brotherly love, but this was more like brotherly hate. “It's called fun; you should give it a shot some time.” “Dad's not going to be around forever. Some day you're going to have to man up and make something of yourself.” “What do you call two number one hits then?”

Nothing I ever did was good enough for Richard. Success was only measured on his terms. “Where's your band now?” “Fuck you. You self righteous prick.” My fists balled up out of habit. It was no secret that the band dumped me after a few world tours. Apparently I was too much of a rock star for them to handle. Inevitably some drunken redneck would call me out at a bar and get put on his ass. What was so wrong with that? “What’s all this about us getting written out of the will?” I relaxed my hands. I wasn't going to pick a fight with him, not yet anyway, and definitely not here. Dad asked me to come home immediately, so I did. I only got the voicemail from the lawyer last night when I was drunk and I managed to erase it by accident. I was going into all this more or less blind. “We don't start and stop at your request, little brother.” He shoved the door open for me. “Go find out for yourself.” Fine by me. I brushed past him and went inside. The sooner I could get out of here the better. The scent of cleaners and hardwood filled my nose and triggered my nostalgia. I immediately thought of the one time I snuck Molly into the house when she was supposed to be at her friend's

sleepover. That was well before we fooled around for the first time. We stayed up most of the night talking about the places we'd go together once we turned eighteen. The butler told me that Dad had had the first floor reading room retrofitted into his new master bedroom. That struck me as odd. It was smaller than any of the actual first floor bedrooms and was the farthest away from the kitchen. I knew he was sick, but why he'd choose a room without a bathroom or even a closet was anyone's guess. I ducked into each of the empty bedrooms I passed until I found a silk button down shirt in one of the closets. It was a little tight, but it'd do fine. I didn't want to see my father looking like a complete scrub. Dad and I didn't always see eye to eye, but I respected the man and I knew he loved me. I walked through the foyer, the kitchen and the family room. The house hadn't changed much from how I remembered it. The ebony Steinway piano had the same high gloss shine and was lit in a way that made the entertaining room glow. Mom desperately tried to get Richard and I to play, but we just weren’t having it. Molly played though. Holy hell could she play... Whenever she came over the whole family would stop whatever they were doing and listen to a few songs. I could still see her fingers gingerly wandering up and down those ivory keys like it was

yesterday. I'd rarely ever seen my mother smile so brightly with pride. Everyone loved Molly. I shook the image from my head and forced myself from the room. I had to get out of there before the damn memories ate me alive. “Ah, shit,” I muttered under my breath, entering Dad's new bedroom. It was the IV stand and the EKG machine I saw first, then I was hit with the scent of lemon pledge and a concoction of chemicals that I'd never be able to name. A nurse stood next to his new deluxe hospital-style bed and marked down his vitals on a clipboard. All of the new sensory information smashed together creating a gray sludge in my head. None of it made any sense. The room and the experience of coming home was more or less familiar, but completely alien at the same time. It was like when a character was suddenly replaced by a different actor on your favorite TV show. I knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was this bad. “Lucas, come on in.” Dad was bare to the waist and looking tired. He usually kept a figure whose jolliness rivaled Santa Clause and now… Well he was thinner than I'd ever seen him, and it scared the hell out of me. “Hey, Dad.” I slowly stepped into the room;

careful not to knock any wires loose. The nurse flashed me a respectful smile as she walked past. No doubt to give us a moment to ourselves. “How're you feeling?” “With both hands.” He smiled, slowly pushing himself off the bed. For being an industry giant he was always surprisingly quick with a few bad Dad jokes. He put a shirt on, then clasped his hands over my shoulders and looked me over as if seeing me for the first time in a decade. Dad and I weren't super close, but we still talked occasionally. After Mom died we all stopped doing the holiday get-togethers. It was amazing how much she held the family together. There was never any reason to come home anymore, but I'd still see Dad a few times a year whenever we both happened to be in the same cities. He'd usually take me out to dinner and tell me about some new breakthrough in medicine or technology his company was working on. “How have your jokes gotten worse over the years, Dad?” “Practice, my boy.” He patted my shoulder. “If it's worth doing once, it's worth doing—” “A thousand times.” I smiled cutting him off. He'd probably told me that around a thousand times too. It used to annoy the crap out of me, but this time I was glad to hear him say it. It made this whole experience feel more normal.

“It's good to see you, Lucas.” He hugged me and I hated how far my arms were able to wrap around him. “You too, Dad.” My voice broke off at the end. My eyes started to water like I’d been punched in the nose. Again. Shit. I wasn't prepared for any of this. I thought I was coming back to hear that he was getting remarried or something. I should've known better. Mom was the only one for him. I'd never seen him with any other women after she died. King men only ever fall in love once, and when we do, we fall hard. The only exception to that was Richard. He’d never fallen in love, at least not to my knowledge. I wasn’t even sure the corporate robot knew how to spell the word love. We broke apart when the nurse came back in with a tray of steaming food. Dad made his way to the wall of windows, dragging the wheeled IV stand behind him like he was leading a child, then put a hand on the glass. It was only then that I realized why it was this room instead of any of the others. From here he could see all of Caldwell Hope. With his factories and his charity work; a lot of families depended on him. It was more than just that though, he put this place on the map and had the biggest hand in its growth. It was obvious that

he cared a great deal about the people here. He still thought of it as his city. He was their protector. “How bad is it?” I asked the nurse. She hesitated, drew in a deep breath, considered her words, then just frowned. Dad didn't bother to turn back around. Jesus... my stomach twisted. I had spent so much of my life actively trying not to give a damn about anything and all that training was undone in but a few moments of tense silence. I was really worried. Richard walked in a moment later. All the elitism and disapproval he'd thrown my way earlier was gone. There was only an uncharacteristic graveness in his features, which bordered on genuine sadness. Then he looked at me, “It's bad.”

RICHARD FOUR

“Y

ou've got to be kidding.” I was as stunned as if I'd just grabbed a live electrical wire. “You want us to do

what?” I knew the terms would be… unconventional, but this was insane! “You heard me.” Dad was still facing out the glass door that led to the back yard. “The first of my sons to produce an heir will receive all of my assets and fortune. The other gets nothing. Not one red cent.” Dad turned back to us, stopping at Lucas first who was leaning against the wall near his bed. “Lucas, your fame has left you detached from people. You're incredibly talented, but also reckless. You need patience and something in which to be invested?”

Then he walked over to me. “Richard, your passion for industry and selfmastery has allowed you to achieve more than I could’ve ever dreamed of, but it’s come at the expense of everything else. You need to learn to step back and see the whole picture. “You both lack lasting personal connections and you’re too blinded by your own success to see how important that is.” “Dad.” Lucas pushed himself off the wall. “I know I didn't turn out exactly how you wanted, but what you're asking is... It's fucking crazy.” I shot Lucas a sour look. He was our father not a construction worker at the dive bars he's used to playing at. “What he means is leaving all of this up to chance isn't wise. There are so many things that could go wrong. This is a lot of money we're talking about.” “Five point two billion dollars to be exact,” Dad said, as if the number was more of a burden than a blessing. It gave me pause. “Boys, I'm dying and the only way this family survives is through children.” When you really boiled it down, money just meant options. How could billions of options ever be a bad thing? “I don't like talking about this, but let's get it all out on the table,” Lucas said. “What happened to the will you had while Mom was alive? Fifty-fifty

split between your surviving heirs. That was fair.” “Fair?” What did Lucas know about fair? I was the one that went on to college, then grad school. I worked my ass off to continue and grow the King legacy. “Where have you been these last ten years? In no universe is getting high and plucking your guitar worth two billion dollars.” “You know what happened, Dick,” Lucas growled. “I had to leave.” “Yes, I know why you left,” I turned to give Lucas my undivided attention. I hated that damn nickname. He matched me with a scowl. Lucas leaving when he did was the only responsible and selfless thing he’d ever done. That didn’t give him a free pass to act like an asshole the rest of his life. “But tell me again why you never came back?” “You—” Lucas stepped toward me, his hands balled into fists. “Boys,” Dad interrupted. “Now don't get me wrong.” I continued anyway. This was a long time coming. If we were putting everything on the table, then this needed to be addressed as well. “I think Lucas is entitled to something, but half was always insane. We should use this time to consider a percentage more in line with his contribution to the King brand.” Which was zero, but I was willing to let him have something. “Richard...” Dad said weakly.

“Dad, you've built an empire on rational, methodical decision making—” “And that time has passed.” Dad rapped his wedding ring against the glass window. The sharp sound split the air with authority. I went silent and patiently waited for him to continue. I had a tendency toward over-talking when I had a point to make, but that was because I was practically raised in a board room. He turned back to us with a half smile, then touched something on the door frame and the glass door beside it opened effortlessly. “Walk with me. It's too nice a day to spend cooped up inside the house.” It was too much money to be discussing with such an informal air. We were talking about billions of dollars. And what happened if he died before either of us got a woman pregnant? This was all such a bad idea. Lucas and I gave each other a wary look, then followed to either side of him. This might've been the only time we ever saw eye-toeye on anything. The back patio was antique blue marble that abutted an invisible edge swimming pool. It wasn't all that wide, but ran the length of the house. Beyond that was all of Caldwell Hope. It was probably the most expansive and gorgeous view in all of Colorado. It was amazing that as beautiful as this valley

was, you only truly appreciated it when you didn't see it every day. We truly were spoiled kids... “What's the difference between two billion dollars and five billion dollars?” Dad asked, walking over the short bridge that went over the pool. There was a small sitting area just on the other side that brought us to the end of the estate and the valley's edge. “I don't know, Dad. The GDP gap between Greece and Kazakhstan?” Lucas snorted behind me, incredulously. He tossed a pebble down the cliff that began a few dozen feet away. “Christ... he's obviously gearing up for a metaphor, Dick. Keep up.” “As always you're both so right in all the wrong ways.” Dad smiled, then sat down on the stone bench. “There is no difference. It's just a number. A man can't spend that money in one or even several lifetimes. “When numbers control your life it's easy to lose perspective and in the end you wonder if it was all worth the cost.” “C'mon, Dad, you've done great things. Look.” Lucas pointed down the valley at the bustling main drag of downtown. “I've seen pictures of this place in the fifties from before you moved here. “The place was a shit hole; a dying mining town. Now look at it. Tourism, industry, expansion, and urban development; it’s all thriving. You've

literally breathed life into Caldwell Hope!” “I originally came here to meet with yet another potential investor. It was the first assignment my father ever gave me. 'To be your own man,' he told me, 'you have to able to make something out of nothing.' “It was supposed to be the first step in building my own branch of King Industries.” Dad squinted, but we were too far away to make out the individual building's signs. I'd heard this story before. It was what he told me when he sent me out into the world after I finished college. “Long story short, no matter what I tried the guy wasn't interested. I failed. I'd have left town and gone back East that very day if I hadn't met your mom. Maggie was my waitress. She wore this blue-dotted apron.” Dad smiled warmly remembering the way his wife looked when they met. “Here I was, looking miserable and she brought me an ice cream sundae on the house.” This part I hadn't heard... It struck me that I never knew how my parents met. That seemed like something every child should intrinsically know. “I didn't know you met Mom in a restaurant,” I said. “Yup, it was Cindy's Diner at the corner of Main and Marshall Long Avenue. It's long gone.” “It's a place called Black Rocket Records now.”

I chuckled quietly to myself in disbelief, thinking of the pretty and rude barista I'd met there this morning. I think Mom would’ve liked her, actually. “We hit it off and I decided to stay for a little while. She helped me through a real low point in my life. I was fresh out of college with almost two dozen failed attempts at finding investors already under my belt. It would've been impressive if it wasn't so damn disappointing.” Dad wore a soft, light expression, finding the levity in even bad times. “Your mother was the most incredible person I’d ever met. She loved good people and good books. She lived her whole life in this small town. She never went to college, but she was such a smart cookie and she loved children. That's why she spoiled you so damn much.” Dad bent forward and lightly slapped our thighs. “Anyways… I was about to abandon the idea of being an entrepreneur altogether, and go back to my father with my tail between my legs and beg for a job. Maggie talked me out of it. When I told her what happened with the investor and my track record thus far she said something I'll never forget. “She said, 'So what?'” He let that linger for a moment before continuing. “It didn't matter that I failed. It wasn't the first or even the hundredth failure that mattered. It was

the last failure that mattered; the one that stopped you from trying again.” “I get that.” I crossed my arms, swishing the statement around my mind like a fine wine. “Never give up, keep trying until you—” “No you don't.” Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes victory itself is a form of failure. You're too much like me to really understand.” OK, now I was confused. The man was a self made billionaire and philanthropist, how could being like him be a bad thing? Lucas was strangely quiet. Did he actually know what Dad was talking about? Sometimes it frustrated me that everything came so easy to Lucas. I had to pour my blood, sweat and tears into all that I’d achieved. Lucas was just naturally talented and floated through life like a breeze. “The reason I've never told you that story before was because I was always too busy with work. I was too busy winning to see what I’d lost. Even after the empire was created there was always more work to do, always more reasons not to enjoy what I already had. I might've never failed my business, but I certainly failed my family. “Your mother especially…” Mom cheated on him once when he was too busy to make time for her. It had been a dark

moment in our family. The King family dealt with the quiet repercussions of that affair for years. In some ways we were still dealing with it. “I won't do that again,” Dad said, somberly. He was speaking of her spirit and how he would honor it. That part I got. The rest though… How do you get defeated by constantly winning? “You're right,” I said. “I don't understand.” Dad sighed and stood up. “I've given this a great deal of thought. My decision is final and legally binding. I want a grandchild.” There was a long silence as he let that last statement sink in. All of this was so he could get a grandson or granddaughter? “There are a few rules,” he said. “No bribes in any capacity. You can't give a woman any money or incentives to do anything she normally wouldn't do.” “No paying for sex, Dick.” Lucas stabbed the words at me like a knife between the ribs. “Oh, please.” As if I would ever have to resort to that. Dad held up a hand to end our bickering. “This town has some of the finest people in the world. You’ll never find a better woman from anywhere else. The last stipulation is that my future grandchild's mother has to be from Caldwell Hope. Just like your mother was...” Dad looked us over one final time, then walked back into the house leaving Lucas and I on the bench overlooking the

valley. “There really was no way we were changing his mind on this,” I said more to myself than to Lucas. I had to father a child. “Fucking crazy...” Lucas said in the same distant manner. He was still processing the information as well. Years of problem solving clicked on like a light bulb. My brain started breaking down the challenges, organizing them, developing little plans to overcome each obstacle. Success was just a numbers game; trial and error. Exposure to the people and the area was my first hurdle. I’d been gone for so long. How was I going to meet a lot of eligible women in the shortest amount of time possible? How could I get the most bangs for my buck? Then it dawned on me. Lucas looked over at me, apparently seeing that there was a big idea written on my face. “What are you going to do?” What was I going to do? I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “I'm going to win.”

LUCAS FIVE

“A

re you the Lucky Luke?” A young blonde sidled up to me at the bar. I fucking hated that stage name. And after what happened with Molly a week ago I certainly wasn't feeling all that lucky. I had just started my night drinking in this holein-the-wall dive bar attached to a crappy motel on the outskirts of town. Only regulars, truckers and those lost physically or mentally ever came here. I didn't think it even had a proper name. I thought for sure I'd be able to drink in peace here. “Nope.” I gulped down the last of the beer I’d been nursing for the past half hour and slid a hundred under my glass for the bartender. Her comment made this one more drinking spot where I couldn’t relax and be, so I got up and left the

building. I wasn't even buzzed yet and I was already running out of shady bars to drink at. How else was I going to dull the thoughts that circled through my mind like vultures picking at a fresh kill. Soon I'd be stuck inside my hotel room drinking. How pathetic was that? I walked over to my bike, sat on the seat and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of my half-buttoned, black, linen shirt. Every time I sparked up I reminded myself how terrible the habit it was. I wanted to quit, but never really had any reason to. Considering what some of my other band mates were hooked on, I'd say I got off easy. Knock a girl up or lose my inheritance. That was fucking insane! I couldn’t shake the conversation we had earlier. It had been on my mind almost as much as thoughts of how bad I fucked up with Molly. I loved my Dad, but he must be losing his mind. I can't just slam a baby into some girl and be done with it. For all his faults, I didn’t think Richard couldn't either. But what the fuck did I know? Yeah, I slept around a lot when I was young, stupid and wrapped up in the rock and roll lifestyle, but I always used protection. Always. It wasn't just to keep my cock clean, but also so I wouldn't get a

girl pregnant. I actually loved kids; I just wasn’t ready to be a father yet. I knew myself better than to think I could raise one alone. They were a big deal! That's one of the things that made a guy into a man. The other was finding and protecting the woman you loved. And just like that I started thinking of Molly for the hundredth time today. I had a lot to atone for in our past; regardless of how much of it started out as my fault. The fact of the matter was that I wasn't there when she needed me, and that eats me alive every damn day. After all this time I come back home only to fuck up with her again! Money, fame, the satisfaction of beating Richard out of his inheritance... I'd give it all for one more chance to do right by Molly. I sucked in one last lungful of smoke, crushed the cigarette—still burning ember and all—in my fist, then started my bike. “Let’s see what the next town has for bars.” I'd barely left the parking lot when I heard shouting. Fame had trained me to never turn around for shouts, it was just an opening for photographers to catch you in the worst light imaginable. My band mates never let me live down the tabloid cover photo that caught me looking up, mid bite of shawarma with a headline that said

something like, “Lucky Luke an Alien? Finally the Proof!” It was pretty funny. They framed it and kept it in the studio while we recorded our last album together. God, that was years ago now... No wonder, I thought, pulling out on to the main road. The shouts were coming from the parking lot of an MC clubhouse. If nothing else, bikers knew how to make noise. I tried not to look; it was none of my business. Having a bike of my own was where our commonalities ended. But then I saw something that couldn't be ignored. The sun had only recently gone down, but exterior lights had already kicked on allowing me to see the couple arguing in the parking lot. I saw him—this tall, bearded, monster in a sleeveless leather vest—slap a woman to the ground and instinct took over. In that moment he could've been fifty feet tall and I still would've rushed him. I didn't care. You don't hit women. Period. The road was empty enough for me to stop where I was, put the kickstand down and run toward them. I was no hero; I never went looking for trouble like this, but some things I just couldn't ignore. Mix that with an impulsive nature to begin with and well... I made the news a lot.

Getting close, I jumped at the biker right as he turned to face me. One heavy right-cross was all it took. He fell straight and slow like a large maple tree that had just been chopped down. The knuckles in my right hand ached. Fuck, that sonofabitch had a hard head. “Are you alright, Miss?” I dropped to a knee and wrapped my good arm around the brunette to help her up. “I think so,” she said, picking up her glasses and letting me guide her to her feet. Something on her wrist twinkled in the shitty parking lot light. A small, faded metal, heart pendant hung from her bracelet. My own heart skipped a beat and my breathing stopped being automatic. “Molly?” I said in disbelief. I gave her that for her seventeenth birthday. They were part of a matching set, and had the word forever inscribed on the back. I swallowed hard to avoid choking on my own tongue. She was still wearing it... Did that mean she still cared about me? “Luke?!” She said in hushed shout, then glanced around the parking lot. “What are you doing here?” “I could ask you the same thing. The hell are you doing at a biker clubhouse? Are you out of your mind? And who the fuck is this prick?”

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” Molly panicked. “Do you have any idea what you just did?!” “Not nearly enough.” A renewed rage washed over me when I looked down at the unconscious behemoth. Slapping a woman was bad enough, but hitting MY woman… made me want to stomp his head in with my boots until my legs got tired. How dare he touch her? “That was the Black Chains sergeant at arms.” Molly began to push back toward my bike. “You need to get out of here right now!” “How bad could a biker gang based out of sleepy little Caldwell Hope be?” Molly lifted the back of the bikers vest revealing a holstered pistol on the small of his back, then she flashed me a hard look and said, “Bad enough.” She jolted away as the biker began to stir. He'd be awake soon. “Please go, Luke.” Her eyes pleaded with me. She was worried for my safety. She said she had moved on, but that wasn't the look you gave to someone you didn't care about. She hadn’t moved on. She still cared about me. “I can't.” My hand touched her cheek; it was red and hot from where he slapped her. I drew my lips in a tight line and looked at her firmly, unshakably. “Not without you.”

A dangerous cocktail of emotions and panic flashed in her beautiful brown eyes. I wish I knew what was going on inside her head. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, but this wasn't the time or place for that. She was right, soon other armed men would be on us. I only had the time to tell her one thing and I didn't even need words to say it.

I WON ' T

EVER LEAVE

you again.

“OK , FINE. L ET'S GO .” She held out her hand. I grabbed it and led her toward my bike. “You can't take me home. That's the first place Cannonball will look. I need to go somewhere until he sobers up.” “Don't worry I know a place that they'll never be able to follow us to.” I helped her onto the back of the bike. “Cannonball? Really?” “No one gets to pick their club names.” Molly strapped on my helmet with an alarming amount of practiced skill. What was the story here? Molly was a librarian at an elementary school, what the hell was she doing hanging out with guys who had pirate nicknames? “And don't get any ideas. I still hate you for what you did.” “Yeah, I do too.” I let out the clutch, kicked the

bike into gear and sped us out to the one place I knew she'd be safe. It was also the one place I was expressly forbidden from going.

RICHARD SIX

“S

o in closing, I thank you all for joining me tonight on my mother's birthday. This town meant the world to her. I'll leave you with a few words of wisdom my father once gave me when I asked him how I could best serve my friends, my peers, and my community. He said simply two words: Open bar.” I flashed my boardroom smile and waved through the thunderous laughter and applause. I idly rubbed my cufflinks, beneath the jacket of my two-tone midnight blue and black suit as I descended the stairs. It was a habit I had. Touching the cool silver always grounded me whenever I had to make speeches or big decisions. The country club wasn't designed for presentations of this scale so I had to retrofit their terraced flower gardens by the compound's main

entrance with sound, lighting and a stage. My assistant and I made our way down to the sea of green between the valet and where the course proper started. The over five hundred initially assembled guests had started to disperse about the grounds, except for the journalists and reporters. They always hung around. I wouldn't have invited them if I had the option, but when it came to business and events there was a certain way of doing things that was expected. They started in right away with forced pleasantries. “What's your handicap, Richard?” One reporter asked. “I don't golf.” “You bought the most prestigious golf club in the state for a party?” “This might go down as the most expensive party in Colorado history.” “More of a celebration, really,” I said. “Besides I've always wanted to try out one of those Segway golf carts they have here.” I answered their barrage of questions as quickly and efficiently as I could until it turned to updates on my father's decreasing health. At that point I courteously bowed out and let my assistant, Jamie, give the canned replies and sound bites that they were all really after. I spent the following hour meeting and talking

with many of the guests. When I finally made it inside the building I spotted my friends, Dempsey and his wife Jillian, at the bar. They were a small safe haven were I could relax my public persona. The night was far from over. It was a bad sign that I already needed a brief break. “Impressive.” Dempsey extended a hand with what looked like a Tom Collins cocktail. “You've managed to get all Caldwell Hope's single, attractive and successful women in one place. I wish I'd thought of this when we were in college.” “Don't be rude, Lovebug.” Jillian elbowed her husband for the joke, then stretched her arms to offer me a greeting hug. They had always been the greatest couple in my, albeit limited, group of friends. They flew in from California this morning to lend their support, and partly because they were bored, and looking for something to do. I quickly drained half the drink Dempsey gave me, not realizing how parched I was from talking so much. “This was a lovely gesture, Richard.” Jillian smiled warmly, then draped herself over her husband's shoulder. From her perfect blonde bun to the elegant way she moved in her six inch heels, Jillian always had a regalness about her. She'd have been a queen had she been born in the right century and country. “So who are you trying to impress?” She raised

an eyebrow and settled in with a knowing smirk. She was also deceptively brilliant at getting to the heart of things. “Or are you trying to impress them all?” “So you can say it?” Dempsey asked with some feigned indignation. “Of course,” She replied with a shrug. “I'll have you both know I carefully curated the guest list to include local artists, writers, bloggers, prominent cultural figureheads, and small business owners. I'm simply serving my community.” I raised my glass for a toast. Everything I said on that stage I meant. My mother did love this town and I really liked the thought of honoring her birthday by bringing people together. Meeting the best women from Caldwell Hope in one fell swoop was an added bonus. She would've wanted me to be happy. And happiness to me meant beating my brother. “Who was that golden-haired vision you were just speaking to?” Dempsey asked, swirling his nearly empty glass. “That’s Ms. Madison Grace, the governor’s daughter.” I kept glancing around the room as my friends and I talked. “Nice enough girl, I’ll be taking her to dinner next week” The night was still fairly young and I'd already gotten the numbers or business cards of half a

dozen beautiful young ladies. That wasn't enough. I scanned the faces of the newest arrivals. Was I looking for someone? I felt this odd sense of yearning. I was looking for someone else; someone in particular. I didn't know who that was until she was practically dragged into the room by her tall, blonde friend. “If you'll excuse me…” I perked up at the sight of Gloria; the rude, yet vulgarly artistic, coffee barista and co-owner of Black Rocket Records. “Ah, yes,” Jillian said. I could feel her smugly smiling as I walked away. “Go serve your community, Richard.”

RICHARD SEVEN

I

t was immediately apparent as Gloria entered the grand room that she didn't want to be here at all. That only piqued my interest more. Where Judy wore an elegant white dress and gold jewelry, Gloria was the opposite end of the spectrum. She wore a black dress suit and shiny metal ear studs. The only exception in her outfit was a pair of bright red low heeled shoes that laced up the front. You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. From her forced smile and body positioning behind her business partner—using her as a conversational shield—I could tell right away that Gloria wasn't shy or timid. This was a woman who had little patience for disingenuous niceties. Her little details were subtle, but telling, if you knew how to look.

I knew how to look. Judy greeted me first; she was all smiles and saccharin. I braced myself for another tidal wave of words and general excitement as Judy delivered in spades. “Mr. King, may I call you Richard? Thank you so much for your kind invitation! We're both extremely pleased to be here. We never got the pleasure of meeting your mother, but she sounds like such a wonderful woman. If you ever have any events that you'd like catered we offer a coffee bar service. Oh and that selfie we took got over five hundred likes on our Facebook page!” I breathed in, smiling in exhaustion, and thanked them both for coming. I smoothly grabbed the arm of a passing food journalist and introduced —sacrificed—the man to Judy. Stepping to the side of them as Judy began to talk to the journalist felt like suddenly being in a word vacuum. That left Gloria and I relatively alone in a room full of people. “Can I get you a drink?” I turned to Gloria. “It's only fair after that coffee you made me.” Gloria glanced back at Judy, who was laughing loudly in a small group of people. If they carpooled here she wasn't leaving anytime soon. She turned back to me with a renewed fake smile. “Sure.” “You can drop the act and be miserable if you

like. I won't tell Judy, I promise.” I said, walking toward the loneliest section of the room-wide bar I could find. “What?” Gloria's fake smile cracked in surprise as I left her. I briskly cut through small groups and politely pardoned myself before they could start up a conversation with me. I ducked under the bar, greeted the bartenders and got to work making the most elaborate drink I knew. The sparkling chandelier light wouldn't cut it so I asked one of the bartenders to use the flashlight on his phone as I fished out ingredients under the bar. The mood lighting was nice, it made the hall more intimate, but I could tell it was difficult on the staff. How could they work like this? I took off my jacket, unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled up my sleeves. Now that I owned the place I was going to introduce a few changes. “I'm not miserable,” Gloria said, placing her small purse opposite me on the bar. There was a look of confusion and interest on her face. “Judy and I are both glad to be invited. There are a lot of people here that we wouldn't have been able to meet otherwise.” “Judy asked you to be on your best behavior, didn't she?” I began slicing papaya and devil's claw. I told the bartender what I was up to and he

assisted with the smaller fruits, gathering them from the kitchen and measuring them for blending. “Mr. King—” “Richard,” I corrected, glancing up and momentarily getting lost in those stormy irises of hers. She really did have the most beautiful eyes... “Richard, you don't know us well enough to make assumptions like that.” “But I'd like to.” I stole another glance, this time with a half smile. “So much has changed since the last time I was here. I'd like to get reacquainted with my home town. Would you be willing to show me around?” “Absolutely not!” Gloria scoffed at the thought, then softened a little. “I'm sorry. I'm just too busy planning the record release party.” She brushed a spiky black lock of hair from her sharp eyes. “Besides I'm a terrible tour guide.” She seemed to have a habit of speaking her mind without a filter. There was a refreshing honesty to that, which I respected. Gloria and I talked for a while as I wrapped up preparing the rest of the ingredients. I sent the various components off with the bartender to be blended, then washed and dried my hands. “I've never seen a fruit salad with over fifty ingredients. I thought you were making drinks?” She said, trying to fill the void. “I am.” I smiled. The drink was called

Commonwealth, and it had seventy-one ingredients. “Like most things in life, it takes time and care to properly appreciate the simple beauty of complex things.” Gloria breathed in sharply as I met her eyes. She knew I wasn't talking about the drink. “Why are you here?” I asked. “We were invited,” Gloria replied, getting a little defensive. “You know that's not what I mean. I understand Judy—loud, fun, friendly. You, though...” I let the sentence linger while I mixed the juices and added the different alcohols. “I'm only here to support the Rocket.” She pursed her lips tightly. “That's it.” I strained the drink, filled her glass and then decorated it with several mini flags and fruit slices. I slid the elaborate drink toward her from across the bar. “How do I even…” She raised an eyebrow at the glass which was more of a piece of art than a mixed drink. I dropped a black straw in. “Ah, OK.” Gloria took a sip. “Well?” I asked. I was proud of myself for pulling the Commonwealth off. The proportions were difficult to get right and it took forever to make. I'd only made it a few times and when I did it always impressed the woman I gave it to. “Too sweet.” Gloria said, after only the one sip,

then slid it back to me. “Thanks, though.” “Really?” I deflated slightly. I tried it. It tasted fine. I felt off slightly, like a machine that had stuttered through a gear set and hadn't properly synced back up yet. “Yeah, sorry.” Gloria leaned in and flipped over a clean rocks glass from the row that lined the inside lip of the bar, then reached for one of the bottles of whiskey I used. Stopping herself just before grabbing it, she asked, “May I?” “By all means.” I casually sipped at the monstrous mixed drink I made. I guess it was a bit sweet. Gloria poured herself a shot, then downed it. “What is it that you don't like about me?” I asked, curiously. It was a feeling I was unfamiliar with. This whole exchange was strange and interesting. Gloria definitely wasn't like the other women I met tonight. She certainly kept me on my toes. I found that extremely attractive. “I don't dislike you, Richard. We just don't operate on the same level. I'm sure you're probably a great guy to have tea with in Milan and—” Gloria flicked her eyes down my physique, trying to hide the swell of excitement in her gray eyes. “a talented polo player.” “Polo?” I laughed, sliding the Commonwealth

away and grabbing my own rocks glass. “Is that what you think I do?” Gloria shrugged. “We are in an extremely expensive and exclusive country club, which you bought on a whim to throw a party.” I poured both of us a round of whiskey and turned my hands out. “OK, that's fair. What you're saying is that you're not impressed by money. So tell me, what does impress you, Gloria?” “I like music.” “Music, says the owner of a record store? Imagine my surprise?” My sly grin stole away some of the firmness in her face. She was repressing a smile. I, of course, took that as a challenge. Right as I was about to follow that up with a joke I noticed a certain uninvited someone walk in. “...Goddammit.” “Everything all right?” Gloria cracked a surprised smirk at the abrupt change in my attitude, then followed my gaze. My brother, Lucas grabbed a few beers off a bar as he led a brunette through the room. I made a mental note to have a harsh discussion with the security guard that let my brother in when he was virtually the only person that wasn't allowed. That wasn't just any brunette either. The glasses, the pony tail... She looked very familiar— Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Was that Molly Baker? After what happened between them, I was genuinely surprised she didn't stab him on sight, let alone break into a party with him. She looked great and despite the circumstances, it was really good to see her. For a time, when they were dating and she was always over the house, Molly became like a kid sister to me. Lucas searched the room with his eyes. When he found me he smiled and winked. The gesture said, “You'll have to do much better than this stupid party to beat me.” Bastard! “It's nothing.” I said, forcing my expression to become lighter and more present. I refused to let Lucas destroy my night. I shifted my attention back to the most interesting person in the room. It helped that Gloria's petite frame and tight curves were easy to lose myself in. “You don't like these sorts of parties, do you?” “Being surrounded by people with their heads so firmly up their own ass that they could see what they had for lunch?” She blew out her air. “Not really, no.” “Why don't you leave then? Judy seems to have the networking angle covered.” “She's my ride.” Gloria grimaced, shaking her head lightly. “She definitely did that on purpose and

I feel stupid for not seeing that coming. She is constantly trying to get me to meet people and be social, but I don't know. I guess I'm just not built that way.” “Let me give you a ride home then.” “What? No.” She glanced back at Judy. Her partner's group had doubled in size and she was the center of it. Judy laughed and flirted. It didn't look like she would be leaving in quite some time. The night was still young after all. “No, it's fine. Besides this is your party. The host can't just leave.” “I doubt anyone would even notice.” I scanned the room, seeing a wave of reporters enter the far end of the room. Almost anyone. “Either way I'm tired of answering questions about my father's health.” Gloria followed my gaze and quietly understood my sudden desire to escape. There were so many things I could talk about for hours; my family and private thoughts were not among them. “You're of course welcome to stay as long as you like, but I’m leaving.” I texted Jamie to let her know I’d be stepping out for a while. I draped my suit jacket across my arm—it had become too warm to put it back on—, grabbed a bottle of top shelf whiskey, then walked out from behind the bar. I reached for Gloria's hand to kiss it good night, but she clamped it tightly and shook it instead.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Grant,” I said, amused. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” Judy's laugh split the air in the near distance and was followed by a round of rejoicing from those around her. Gloria's expression darkened. The thought of joining them or finding new conversations must have been really grating to her. I felt surprisingly good as I walked away. Talking with Gloria for that brief time had been more satisfying than all the other girls combined. She had been a cool breeze in a room full of stuffy, stagnant conversations I'd already had a thousand times. “Mr. King!” A deep voiced journalist ambushed me. “I'm with the Caldwell Hope Journal. Can I have a moment of your time please?” “I'm sorry; I'm on my way out.” Then a devious idea hit me. I grabbed the man's shoulder and drew his attention toward Lucas. “But you see that guy over there with the long hair? The one person in this entire party who looks like just he stepped out of a music video? “That's my rock star brother Lucky Luke. He just told me that he wouldn’t be getting back together with his band this time. They were officially done.” The man’s dark face lit up at the thought of being the one to break the news. He thanked me profusely, then rushed off. A small crowd of other

reporters could smell the fresh blood of a breaking story and followed the man. Within seconds Lucas was surrounded. I paused long enough to smile at his mounting frustration with all the questions, then turned to leave again. “Wait,” Gloria said, catching up to me as I made for a side exit. “Is that ride out of here still on the table?”

LUCAS EIGHT

“I

s it true that Gunmetal Tears is finally finished?” “Did they kick you out after that stunt in Berlin? Are you going into rehab—.” “Care to comment on—” The questions came like machine gun fire at an execution by firing squad. And I was up against the figurative wall, without so much as a final cigarette. I glared at Richard, but he was walking through the front door; a smile on his lips and the blackhaired flavor of the night on his arm. Shots fired, I thought, standing there as half a dozen reporters swarmed around Molly and I like vultures. I thought about the present I left in his car before coming in. Enjoy the next few hours, Dick. After that, you’re going to have a real bad night.

Their questions buzzed like bees, overlapping and interrupting each other as the reporters followed our escape from the grand room. They weren't particularly loud like in LA or New York, they were just relentless. Molly covered her face, looking embarrassed. She wanted no part of this and definitely didn't want her picture taken. That flushed me with anger. I had to get her out of here. “Hey! No pictures.” I loudly interrupted the stream of bullshit. “I'm not answering any of your stupid questions. Back the fuck off!” I shoved my way through a small group of people as I led Molly to what looked like the server’s egress that led to the kitchen. “Hey! Jerk!” A tall, bubbly blonde in a white dress and gold jewelry shouted as I shouldered her out of the way. They picked the wrong set of swinging doors to hang out in front of. At the last possible second a fat photographer stepped in front of us and snapped a shot off. The white camera flash was blinding. Instinct took over, and I latched onto the front of the camera. I'd have ripped it away from the photographer, but the lanyard was wrapped around the back of his neck. “I said no pictures.” I balled up my other fist, and was about to take his head off when I felt Molly's hand tug at my cocked elbow.

“Don't be an idiot,” Molly said. “Let’s just go.” I turned and saw the whole room looking at me. Shit. I played right into Richard's hands. He knew this would happen. When I got riled up I tended to act first and think later. And nothing riled me up more than someone making Molly uncomfortable. Well played, Dick. Once news of this got out everyone in town would know I was back. That always made things more difficult. The reporters followed us all the way to the staff kitchen before relenting. They'd have kept following us too, had the head chef not recognized what was going on and roared for them to leave. Fortunately the chef happened to be a fan and told us how to escape through the back by the dumpsters. You'd think being a rock star would insulate you against the nasty back end of things, but that was never the case. I bet I passed more dumpsters in my career than any fan ever had. The public got the fancy front entrances with their gilded lights and flashy buy-me concessions and swag. The artists got the back alleys and ugly hallways. I didn't mind though. That's where I felt the most at home. I glanced back at Molly when we made it outside behind the country club. Her bookish

timidity had evaporated somewhere between me breaking into Richard's car and us sneaking into the party under different names. I thought she'd be pissed, but there was a crease in the corner of her lips that someone might confuse with the ghost of a smile. “It's amazing how little you've changed over the years,” She said. “You're still an impulsive hot head.” Was she actually enjoying this? It didn't matter that the gated-off staff area smelled like ripe trash, or that I'd just made an ass out of myself in a room full of people. I couldn't remember a time recently where I was happier. Just being with her like this after so long gave the evening a magical quality. What were the odds that I’d see her outside that bar at that exact time? I never believed in fate or the shitty nickname I was given. Lucky Luke. I had no idea how all of this was going to shake out, but I was going to savor whatever time I could steal with Molly. Even if she did still hate me. “You've changed though.” I shot her a quick glance, admiring the way her layered hair framed her perfect face. “When we were younger it was a hell of a lot tougher to convince you to break into this place with me.” “I think I was afraid of disappointing your mom

if we ever got caught.” There was a gleam in her eyes as she shut the door and idly surveyed the endless green plain. The fog had started to conceal the distant treeline. It was easy to forget the many good old times that were buried beneath the mountain of bad times. “Yeah, right. Mom would've let you get away with murder as long as you kept playing the piano. Do you still—” “No.” Molly said, curtly, obviously wanting to change the subject. She brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek and turned away. I wanted to ask her why she stopped playing, but I held my tongue and pulled out a pack of smokes instead. I'd never seen anyone work the keys with half the finesse she had. What happened to us? It was a stupid question. I knew exactly what happened, and knowing didn't make it any better. “Why'd you bring me here?” She asked, leaning against the building's stone exterior. She let her gaze slip up toward the heavens. Between the clubhouse, parking lot and the various permanently lit driving greens, there was still too much light pollution to really take in the stars. “Motorcycle vests don't generally meet the dress code here.” I placed the cigarette in my mouth and flicked out a small flame from my

Zippo. The yellow light highlighted the disapproval on Molly's face. Smoking was so second nature that I hadn't even considered it might bother her. “I knew you'd be safe here, at least for the night.” I closed the metal lid on the lighter and killed the flame. Tucking the unlit cigarette away in my back pocket, I looked her over. I didn't like the idea of her hanging around with men that hit women, but she declined when I wanted to get the cops involved. Whatever was going on with her was a big deal and it killed me not to know. “What happened back there? Who the fuck was that guy?” I tried to keep the anger out of my face, but I was still furious at that biker. It was so hard not to get jealous too. When I heard that Molly had gotten married, I lost a week of my life to drugs, women and bad decisions. I never fully recovered from the news. “That's none of your business,” Molly said, her lips were a tight slash across her face. Annoyed, she blew air out of her nose in a short burst, then looked away again. Right before she snapped her head to the side I saw a glossy sheen in her eyes. “If you gave a damn you'd never have abandoned me in the first place.” My heart lurched at the thought of being the one to bring tears to her eyes. I loved Molly more

than life itself, but I never seemed to stop hurting her. Fuck! I stopped myself from punching the wall and busting my knuckles. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go down! “Best laid plans were for idiots and assholes,” Ricky, our drummer, was prone to saying when things didn't work out the way we wanted. He was right. I was both an idiot for thinking I could repair a decade worth of damage in one night and an asshole for jumping right in and trying. I was being selfish. I wanted my Molly back, the girl that loved me. But that girl was gone. “Listen,” I said, ducking around in front of her and placing my head against the cool stone wall. “You're stuck here for a few hours until...whoever that was gives up looking for you. “For the rest of the night can we just be two different people?” “Luke, it doesn't work that.” Molly bowed her head and lifted her glasses so she could wipe the tears from her eyes. “I don't want to be Luke King,” I said. “That dude fucked up so much that even I have trouble spending time with him.”

“Just for tonight.” I dropped to one knee so I could I look up into her dark amber eyes. The gesture spurred an exasperated look to wash across her face. I pressed my hands together like I was praying to a god. In some ways I was. “Just for tonight, let me be... Elmo.” “Elmo?” Molly snorted and shook her head, her face lightening. I was hoping for a smiling flash of her perfect teeth, but none came. “Like that lame plushy you won for me in that stupid claw machine?” “There was nothing stupid about that claw machine. It was very good at separating idiots from their money.” I spent over a hundred bucks over the course of a week trying to win that red, plasticeyed jerk for Molly, all because she said it was cute as we walked by. She always had a thing for nostalgia. “What do you say?” Molly sighed, walking away. The white dress and jeans made her look like an angel that was slumming it for the weekend. She propped her hands on her hips and thought on it for several agonizing minutes. “Fine.” She turned back to me. The auxiliary lighting was dim enough for her freckles to have retired for the night, but the lenses of her glasses still shone defiantly. “On one condition.” “Name it,” I said without hesitation, hopping back up to my feet.

“We might be stuck here, but I don't want to be anywhere in smelling distance of a dumpster.” The corner of my mouth spiked up, but I caught it before it got out of control and became a full on grin. I thought on it for a second. It'd been forever since last time I was here. This golf course was massive, but most of it was empty for obvious reasons. Where could we go? I sure as hell wasn't going to bring us back inside with all the reporters. There were a few smaller clubhouses spread out on the property, but those would all be locked up. “There's a lake a ways down.” A specific spot popped into my head; the way a long forgotten memory might when a song you hadn't heard in ages played on the radio. Was it still there, I wondered? The alarm reminder on my phone started buzzing. I turned the vibration off, but the text notification was still on the screen. It read, “Fuck with Richard? YES or NO” I thought about how Richard fed me to the wolves inside and an evil smile spread across my face. I tapped YES and it started auto-dialing. I was willing to play nice, at least for a little while, but so much for that. It looked like the King brothers were officially

at war. “What's so funny?” Molly asked, noticing my shark-toothed grin. “I'm overwhelmed by brotherly love.” I winked at her as the line picked up. “Hello, police? I'd like to report a crime.”

RICHARD NINE

“T

his is me.” Gloria collected her handbag as my Aston Martin slowed to a stop just outside Black Rocket Records. She thanked me for the ride and I wished her a good night. I certainly didn't want the night to end, but I wasn’t leaving town any time soon—My father made sure of that— and was willing to take it slow and figure her out. Gloria Grant intrigued me. She was a beautiful puzzle— A Rubik's Cube with razor sharp edges and a mirror finish. I loved challenges; lived for them. “Are you going inside or are you headed back to your car?” I asked, through the open passenger window when she closed the door. “Why?” She gave me a distrustful look.

“It's late.” It wasn't that late, but the all the shops within eyesight were closed. “I'm going to stick around to make sure you get to wherever you're going safely.” As Caldwell Hope evolved into the tourist hot spot it was meant to be more lights and late night shops would liven the place up after dark. It wasn't there yet, and without the perpetual bustle of people the main drag looked lonely and unwelcoming. Gloria looked down, trying to hide her small smile. “You're wearing the wrong suit to be a white knight,” she said, looking back up at me. “I'm headed back into the shop for a bit.” She paused, running something over in her head, then decided to continue. “You want a coffee? Y'know, as thanks for the ride” “That depends—” I reached behind the passenger seat and pulled out the bottle of whiskey I stole from my new country club. “You mind if I bring my own sweetener?” “Nope. If we had our liquor license whiskey would be on the menu.” Gloria said from over her shoulder as she walked to the door. I got out and checked my key fob. I locked the car doors, unlocked them, then locked them again. The lights flashed and horn beeped obediently. Everything seemed to be working fine.

Odd, I thought. When we left the country club my car doors were unlocked. I didn't have anything in there worth stealing so it wasn't a big deal whether they were locked or not, especially not in a town with as low a crime rate as Caldwell Hope. Still I specifically remembered locking the doors. The batteries in the fob must be dying. Gloria unlocked the store, turned on the lights and fired up one of her elaborate drip contraptions. As we waited for the coffee to percolate she showed me around. I hadn't noticed it the first time I came in here, but the shop had an excellent design to it. The layout of each section—records, unique and rare books, T-shirts and coffee counter—flowed perfectly into each other without feeling cramped. The aesthetic was bold, thick swaths of color that gave the place an energetic and punk rock feel. A lot of care went into this place. “Black Rocket Records is your baby, isn't it?” “Every stain and bent nail.” Gloria tried to downplay it, but I could see that she took pride in her work. “You have some good stuff in here,” I said, browsing through the racks of records. I slipped out an album by the New York Dolls. “Can I throw something on?” “Sure.” Gloria raised an eyebrow at my

selection, genuinely surprised I picked something as fast, harsh and dirty as the Dolls. She cocked her head to the side as she pulled out what could only be described as a beaker of coffee. “The iPod is behind the counter. It has all their albums on it.” That made sense. It'd be horribly impractical to be changing records over every half hour when working. Scrolling through her vast digital selection, I forwent the albums and just put it on shuffle. I knew a little of the punk rock genre from when I played bass with Lucas as kids, but not enough to hold any kind of conversation about individual bands. The thrashing punk song ended and something a little bluesier began. It wasn't always bad between Lucas and I, but I tried not to think about those days. It was easier that way. “Hey spaceman.” Gloria roused me from thoughts of my past, a wary look in her eyes. What kind of problems could a billionaire possibly have? I might not have had to worry about my mortgage or debt, but I did have to fall in love and have a kid or else I'd lose my entire inheritance. It sounded like a cautionary tale that you'd find in one of those old Brothers Grimm-style fairy tale books. Not the Disney ones with the happy endings. Gloria placed the steaming mugs of coffee

down by the register on the glass counter top that had all the Alice in Wonderland art. I grabbed the whiskey on my way over to her. “You wanna do the honors?” She asked, waving a hand toward the booze. “I don't want to mess up whatever magic you've got going on in here, but I'll be your assistant.” I unscrewed the top and slid the bottle to her, then I grabbed a stool from the long seating bar at the window and sat opposite her on the customer end of the counter. “Déjà vu.” “Yeah, sorry about that morning...” Gloria scrunched her mouth to one side, looking mildly guilty. “I didn't mean to snap at you last time. I had just gotten into an argument with Judy and was in a pissed off mood. I'd like to think I'm not usually that rude.” “You're just lucky the coffee was phenomenal.” I winked at her, then let myself relax enough to relate to her on an honest level. “I get it. We all have bad days.” “What should we toast to?” She poured and mixed the drinks, then held hers up. “To the Rocket’s massive revenue growth this quarter.” “Jesus, man.” Gloria chuckled, sinking into a stool she had on her side of the counter. “No. I mean yeah. I hope we do well, but that's not something you toast to.”

“No?” I thought back to my last several business dinners. “That's all my shareholders seemed to care about.” “No! You toast to health and good tidings. Vague things that make you feel happy even if you know they're lies.” “Ok...” I blew the steam off my coffee as I thought it over. Raising my cup again I gave it another try. “Here's to new, unlikely friends. Better?” “Better.” Gloria's black-rimmed eyes softened, and a hint a smile creased her lips on one side. I hadn't figured out if they were contacts yet. They had to be. I'd never seen a stormy shade of gray like hers before. It was easy, too easy, to lose myself in them... My father's challenge softly echoed in my head as we locked stares. I abruptly broke my gaze, sipped my coffee and surveyed the room. A wave of shame slithered up my spine. Damn. I hadn't even slept with this girl and that's what floats across my mind—How can I knock her up and win the competition? I'd been with so many women that it was hard to remember them all. Through it all I'd always been up front and honest about my intentions and my commitment level, or rather lack of commitment level.

I showed them all a fun, hot time and never had any regrets. It was just sex. So why did I feel so sleazy now? I didn't like it. I was known to be ruthless, cold and maybe a bit of a jerk, but never dishonest. I had to get the truth out of the way now. “I never wanted to come back to Caldwell Hope.” I said a few minutes later, finishing my coffee. The blues song faded into something by Buddy Holly. She finished hers and poured herself a twofinger refill of just the whiskey. “And yet here you are.” Then without asking, she poured me a refill too. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” “It's bad form to let a lady drink by herself. Besides you're a big guy, you can handle it.” Gloria shrugged and smiled. Her demeanor had softened so much since I met her. Had I broken through her prickly armor? I doubted it, but she had at least lowered her sword from my throat. “So why did you come back?” She asked, looking me over again. I noticed her inspection was a lot slower this time. Her eyes took their time over my muscles, and down to the bunched fabric that protected the world from my cock. “I'm only here because of my father.” “I heard.” Her face tensed into a genuine

concern. She sipped at her drink with tentative discomfort. She didn't need to know me to understand having a parent slowly dying was terrible. “I'm sorry.” “It's not just that.” I knocked back the rest of my whiskey and poured more. “I'm here because in order to win my inheritance, I need to get a woman pregnant before my brother does.” “Jesus.” Gloria leaned back away from the bar, her face screwed up. “Is that why you drove me back? Are you hoping to impregnate me to win your contest?” “No.” I laughed. “Of course not. Not even I’m that callous. If I was and that was the goal I wouldn't have been honest with you.” “Why the hell should I believe you?” “I'm a lot of things,” I looked up at her with nothing, but naked sincerity on my face. “But I'm no liar.” Gloria darted her gaze away and I felt a pit form in my stomach. I wanted her to believe me. Why was that suddenly so important? I barely knew this girl and there was no way she'd be the woman to have my kid. I was just wasting my valuable time with her when I should've taken some other girl home. Some rich, dull blonde that would be receptive to the idea of faking a relationship long enough to give me an heir. I knew all of that analytically, yet...here I was.

Gloria absently swished the last sip of whiskey around the bottom of the mug, finally swallowing it. After a refill and several more minutes of thoughtful introspection she asked, “Why not just buy a hooker or something?” “That’s against the rules.” I shrugged. I'd never had to before and the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I could just disregard the rules and pay someone to have my kid and lie about it, but that wasn't me. I wanted to win. Really win. “It also feels...wrong. I’ve never had to buy one before. I wasn’t about to start now.” “Oh there are rules?” She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I guess so. My father was very thorough when he wrote up all this insanity.” “I have no intention of getting pregnant,” Gloria blurted unexpectedly. “Not for a long while.” Was she actually thinking about it? I dismissed the thought. All the alcohol she packed into that tiny frame must have started to catch up with her; I hoped she wasn't driving anywhere soon. “Besides you already have a baby.” I gestured in a wide arc about the store. In some respects, having your own small business was like having a child. You constantly have to feed it and help it grow or else bad things happen.

“Alright, Mr. Bigshot.” Gloria's eyes narrowed, but she leaned back in from across the counter. Her black, tussled hair fell in front of one of her eyes. Instinctively I moved to brush it back, but fortunately I was still sober enough to stop myself. “It's my turn to ask you. What are you doing here?” That was a good question. I was still trying to work that out for myself. Gloria was unique in many ways. She was forward, abrasive, filter-less and she generally didn't seem to care how people saw her. There was bravery to that; a boldness I couldn't ignore. “I brought you back because you're more interesting to me than anyone else at that party.” I brushed my thumb across her knuckles. “I know there's no future for us. You're not going to have my kid, nor would I even ask you to. But I'd much rather spend the night drinking with you than people with 'their heads up their asses.'” It was a weird truth, but truth none the less. Maybe I just needed a break from my life for a while. Maybe that's all Gloria was—a beautiful punk rock pause button; a commercial break; a lungful of fresh air in a smoky hall. Whatever she was, I knew I wanted it. And from the way her lips cracked apart in a hesitant smile, I could tell she wanted the same. Her dark eyes were heavy, but it wasn't from alcohol or tiredness. I'd seen lusty eyes enough to

know them right away. Then her damn phone went off. We both glanced at the time. One in the morning already? When someone calls this late it's usually important. Gloria exhaled; letting her head dip out of exasperation, then roughly snatched her purse from beside the register. She fished her phone out and sighed again when she saw it was her partner Judy. I couldn't make out what Judy was saying over the music, but from her excited tone I could tell that it was at least good news. What followed next was fifteen minutes of Gloria getting out half sentences before being cut off. She said uh-huh during that time more than I’d heard all week. It struck me as odd that a woman like Gloria would tolerate this kind of partnership. I'd learned in business that it was crucial to surround yourself with different and occasionally contrasting points of view. It helps you look at problems from more than one way. These two though... They were fundamental opposites. “Tell me,” I said when Gloria slapped the phone down and shoved it away from her like it was a napkin she'd just used to kill a spider. “How does someone like her become partners with someone like you?” “She came with the money.” Realizing how bad

that sounded, Gloria clarified. “I didn't mean it like that. Judy is... Well, her heart is in the right place. We went to high school together. I had the passion and the degree just not the credit for a bank loan.” “But she could fund you.” Things started falling into place in my head. “No, but her father could. The caveat was that Judy be co-owner so she could get some real world experience. She's great at being social, but still has a long way to go on a lot of other things.” Gloria propped herself up on the counter so she could sit a little more comfortably. In doing so her hand slipped and knocked her mug directly into my lap. “Dammit!” I snatched the mug up before it could smash against the floor, but my pants weren't saved from a good splashing. Gloria shot up; looking horrified, then sprang off to grab a fistful of napkins from the dispenser. “It's fine. It's only pants.” Granted they were expensive pants, but nothing I couldn't live without. “When you say a long way to go, how do you mean?” “She tied up all of our liquid assets in booking The Deconstructed to play here when their album drops.” “I've heard of them,” I said slyly, playing it cool. I'd actually been a big fan back in the day. There was a time in middle school when Lucas and

I learned a few songs, but couldn't keep it together long enough to make the talent show. It was a very short lived idea. “Yeah, they're a big deal. For what we're paying them, you'd think we're booking The Beatles!” Gloria's face brightened with repressed irritation as she continued to speak. The flush on her creamy skin could've lit up a small closet. “In theory it'll be the biggest draw we've ever had which should translate into a lot of sales, but if literally anything goes wrong...” “I can see why you're worried. Rock stars aren't known for being reliable.” Especially not that band. The Deconstructed practically had their own wing at a rehab resort in Florida. “I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this.” She paused, looking a little flustered. How long had she been holding this in for? She didn't seem to be the kind of girl that made friends easily. For as different as we were, we did have a few things in common. I often compartmentalized my emotions so I wouldn't have to deal with them. It was great for efficiency and level headed decision making, which was paramount when running a multi-million dollar corporation or a small coffee shop. It wasn’t so good for… anything else really. “Your secret's safe with me,” I said. “Safe? I don't even know you.” Gloria padded

her forehead with the back of her hand. “Shit, am I blushing? I think I drank too much.” I rose off my little stool so I could easily reach her, then touched her face. Her cheeks were scalding like spilled coffee. She didn't pull away, so neither did I. “You wear pink really well.” I smiled. “You're like my own personal Lite-Brite.” “How old are you?” She teased playfully. “Funny,” I said, brushing the insult off. Thirtyone wasn't that old. Her deep crimson lips curled up at the edges. At that moment I wasn't thinking about my countless responsibilities at work or my father's illness or even beating Lucas for the inheritance. All I wanted in life was to taste Gloria's sweet, pomegranate smile. My hand shifted to under her chin, raising it slightly so her face was all I could see. Over the store's speakers, the driving drums and crashing guitars of The Cure's song “Burn” thundered its dark melody just for us. The paleness of Gloria's skin warmed in the subtle glow of the low hanging yellow lights above us. And her eyes... Her eyes glistened like a storming sea, wild and dangerous with sharp rocks lying just beneath the surface. I leaned into her feeling like the captain of

a doomed ship being lulled closer by a siren's irresistible song. Every bone in my body hummed, warning me that nothing good was going to come of this. For the first time in my life I ignored my instincts. I kissed her.

RICHARD TEN

M

y tongue searched hers; discovering notes of coffee, black cherry and hot whiskey. It was better than I could've imagined. Gloria was just over five feet tall, I had almost a foot and a half on her. She had to kneel on her stool and practically lay over the counter just to reach me. Had we been thinking straight, we'd have walked a few feet in either direction and not had a counter between us. But the alcohol and lustful stares had pushed us far past the point of rational thought. Instead, I placed my hands at her waist and lifted her over counter like she was a stuffed bear I'd just won at a carnival. She was so light that I might decide to never put her down.

She wrapped her legs around my waist when we were clear of the register and there was nothing between us but air and longing. I pulled her into me. Her heels slipped off one, then the other. “Your ruby slippers, Dorothy...” I murmured distractedly between kisses. “You'll never get home now.” Gloria shrugged off the black suit jacket she was still wearing and said nothing. I sat her on the counter and tore off my neatly tailored button-down. She tugged the bottom hem of my undershirt out from my pants and dipped her cool fingertips beneath the fabric. “I've never met a desk jockey with abs before.” Her hands gingerly slid up my washboard stomach and broad, sculpted chest as she finally rolled my undershirt over my head. “It must be all that polo you think I play.” I wasn't as gentle. In a flash I had her tank top on the floor and her deep purple bra draped across the register. She sat before me, naked save for her pants and a devious smile that asked, what am I waiting for? I paused to take in her soft alabaster beauty. Hot ripples coursed down my body, pulsing directly into my hardening cock. Of all the women I'd been with, none of them looked like her. Gloria was sexy and exciting in a way that was so new. Her skin was spun silk, and although there was

faint definition in her ribs she looked healthy and vibrant. Staring at her—drinking her in with my eyes made her face flush a deeper shade than her dusted rose-breath areolas. “You aren't like most people I know.” She looked at me curiously, probably wondering why I was taking my time. Why would I rush? We had all night. Besides, any decadent dessert that you weren't likely to ever have again was worth savoring, wasn't it? “Know many billionaires?” I dragged my fingers down her neck and palmed her modest chest. Closing my eyes, I felt her heartbeat pound softly against my hand. When I opened them again I found her peeling back two of my fingers and tracing them with her tongue. The ripple down my core became a scorching flood when she wrapped her mouth around my fingers and began to suck. Every swish of her tongue made tiny promises of what she could do when she was on her knees in front of me. My rodhard cock threatened to bust through my fly. Her teeth clamped against me and began to tremble. It made my breath spike. “That's not what I mean,” she said, licking the tips one final time. There was vulnerability in her voice that genuinely surprised me. “Most guys I'd been with barely even noticed me.”

Here I was thinking this girl was all cactus and barbwire, but that really wasn't the case at all. I guess those sorts of things were easy to overlook if you weren't searching for them. After all, most people thought I was just some spoiled heartless corporate exec looking to fuck everyone over for the sake of a few more bucks. When I met Gloria she didn't even try to hide her judgmental disdain. Now though...she wasn't looking at me that way. It was a really nice feeling. With my hand still firmly planted on her chest, I gently pushed her down on the glass-topped counter. Her lithe, half-naked form squeaked when I dragged her hips closer to me. It wasn’t that wide a counter; I didn’t want her head hanging off the other side. Gloria blanketed most of the Alice in Wonderland collage and I had to wonder— Had we both fallen down a rabbit hole of our own? “You're all I see, Gloria.” I lowered my mouth to her stomach as I said the words so she could feel the vibration through her skin. Gloria breathed deep, the tenseness in her muscles evaporated. Soon she'd go back to stressing about work and I'd start interviewing the women I'd met at the party. But that was tomorrow. Tonight was all ours. She shivered as my fingers flicked over her

nipples; they were as hard as setting clay. When I pinched them she let out a little chirp and her smile widened wickedly. That was exactly how I liked it. Slow, mounting pressure. It made the release that much more. I kissed down her stomach as I unclasped her pants. Her body tasted delicious, like lightly salted shea butter with hints of flowers. Lipstick, make up, perfume... She might not have wanted to be at the party earlier, but her body did. I smiled, kissing over hip, taking in her intoxicating natural scent. Her panties were plain cotton, but were a bikini style. I bet while she was working she was more of a boyshorts girl. Who was she hoping to see tonight? I couldn't help, but fantasize that she did all this for me. It was vain, but thinking that she was dolled up for someone else filled me with a strange jealously. Gloria moaned softly as I hooked the elastic band and jerked the thin fabric past her knees. Her pants hung lazily off one foot until she kicked everything off. My head was swimming, a carnal urge washed over me as I grabbed her thighs roughly. The back of her knees bent over my shoulder and I dived in like a treasure hunter. I didn't hesitate; I couldn't if I wanted to. I was magnetically drawn to her smoothly shaved pussy.

I parted her pink lips and drank deeply, my tongue exploring every sensitive nook and fold. Her whole body jerked forward when I grazed her clit with my teeth. I watched as Gloria propped herself up onto her elbows, her eyes widened in fear and thrill. “Fuck,” Gloria moaned and writhed, causing more chirp-like squeals from her skin sliding on the glass. I had her now. She was fully mine. My tongue was buried inside her, curling as far as I could go. There was nothing she could do except riffle her fingers through my hair, hang on, and pray. Sucking and stroking her clit, I realized that I was moaning too. My cock throbbed. Shit, I hadn't been this horny since I was sixteen. The more I tasted her the more I wanted. I wanted to ruin this girl; make it so that every time she sat down she remembered my hard cock impossibly deep inside of her. Gloria's body tensed so much that she was sitting fully up on the counter and was leaning over me. Her shock of black hair blotted out the overhead light. Suddenly she cried out and came. I didn't stop. Her pussy fought back, desperately trying to crush my tongue. I wasn't having any of it. I pried her thighs apart and pressed my face in harder. I

could feel another orgasm on the wings screaming for me to release it. Seconds later she came again, more violently this time. I had to catch her or else she'd have fallen off the counter. “Fuck me already!” She squirmed, her body quivering from aftershocks. Just as I was about to tear my mouth off her to reply, there was a sharp rapping on the Rocket’s glass door. “Shit!” Gloria's face went from beet red to ashen white in a heart beat. She swung backward over the counter like a drunken gymnast, knocking over a rack of gift cards in the process. “What—” I shot up to catch her, but I was too late. After I peered over the side to see that she was alright I turned toward the door. Two uniformed police officers stood outside, plain as day. They both looked down embarrassed and amused. One of the men cautioned a glance up and knocked again. “Coming!” Gloria cursed, then corrected herself, “I mean, on my way!” How long were they standing there? I put my shirt back on and discretely positioned my cock so that I wasn't tenting my pants. It was a straight, clear view of outside. They must've seen everything. It's amazing what you don't think of in the heat

of passion and when you're buzzed. Having assembled most of her clothes, Gloria rushed over to the door and opened it. “Evening, officers. Is uh...” Gloria cleared her throat. “What seems to be the problem?” You mean aside from being eaten out in view of anyone walking by, I thought. To our defense, it was late and the street was long dead. No one had even driven by since we'd been here. Black Rocket Records was on a corner so we'd have seen headlights flash if any cars were in the area. Did someone walk by and call the cops? “Whose car is this out front here?” One of the men asked politely. “That's mine.” I did up the few remaining buttons on my shirt and walked over. There was probably a parking ban in effect. I hadn't been back long enough to catch up on the town’s ins and outs. “Do I need to move it?” “No, sir.” The pleasantness hadn't left the lead officer's voice, but I did notice he was now resting his hand on his gun. Never a good sign. “But we do need you to unlock your vehicle. We need to search it.” “What? Why?” “We received an anonymous tip saying you had well over the legal limit of marijuana in your trunk.”

The news slapped my like a wet fish across the face. That was impossible. I didn't smoke weed. Then I remember my car was unlocked when I drove Gloria back from the party. All the pieces fell into place. I suddenly knew exactly why the cops were here. Lucas.

LUCAS ELEVEN

M

olly and I walked for hours. In the dark —our path lit by only moonlight or occasionally cell phone when we strayed off the course and into the woods—we were seventeen year old kids again. It was crazy how easy it was to slip back into that role. We were best friends before we started dating. We talked about music and movies. She caught me up on Caldwell Hope politics and the aggressive tourism movement that had squeezed almost all the charm out of our small town. She thought the new ski resort—that doubled as an adventure park in the summer months—brought too many rich, yuppie assholes into the area. What kind of example was that setting for the kids? We mostly avoided the hard stuff— why I left,

and what she was doing with bikers to begin with. The real world threatened to crash down around us like a driving rainstorm, but as long as we kept up our umbrella of light and hopeful conversation it couldn't touch us. I wondered how long we could keep it up before one of us finally cracked and demanded answers. I doubted it would be long. The thought of that biker slapping her made my knuckles itch. She did most of the talking right up to when we arrived at the tucked-away lake, but I didn't mind. I'd forgotten how much I loved the sound of her golden honey voice. I could listen to her forever. It had always been like that though. We walked along the bank, listening to the cicadas and the wind. The temperature had dropped just enough to be borderline chilly. She was only wearing jeans and a T shirt. I noticed her spine ripple with a chill and I cursed myself for not bringing my leather jacket to drape over her. “Does Lucky Luke have any shows lined up, now that he's back?” “One, yeah. Over at the Family Room this Friday. Why?” I asked slyly. “You interested in going?” “Maybe.” She tossed me a tattered half smile. She was trying her best to keep up with our game of being different people, but we both kept slipping up. It was a nice fantasy though. I really liked the

idea of a fresh start with her. “You should go. I know the guitarist is a total douche, but I hear he knows how to play.” Molly laughed, then looked around. “I think I remember this place.” “You used to read to me out here, you remember?” It was one of my favorite things in the world. I stepped behind her and rubbed some warmth into her arms. The shampoo of her soft brown hair filled me with nostalgia. Whenever some blogger would ask me about inspiration for my songs I'd tell them the same story. “A good story, a soothing voice and the kiss of warm afternoon sun was all I needed.” It wasn't the full truth, but that was the point. The real truth was private. It belonged only to Molly and I. It was a precious memory that would lose some of its magic if I ever told anyone about it. “I do,” Molly said wistfully, looking out at the black, shining lake. The moon had slipped out from behind a cloud generously lighting her face for me. The cool tones made her skin look as smooth as porcelain. For a second I worried that this was all a dream. Nothing was ever this perfect. “You'd sit in the shade of one of those trees,” I pointed up past the stump of a tree that'd been struck by lightening long before our time. “I'd lay my head on your lap, close my eyes and listen to

stories by Emily Brontë and Jane Eyre.” “Jane Eyre wasn't an author,” She chided me like the librarian she was. “It was the name of a book by Charlotte Brontë, Emily's sister.” I shrugged. I wasn't much for books in general. Maybe she ruined them for me. The voice in my head could never compare with the sound of her reading to me. “Half the time I thought you were asleep,” Molly continued, breaking away from me and the bank, and making her way up to the stump. She sat down. “But you kept reading.” I began searching the bark on trees I passed, but I couldn't find what I was looking for. God, it had been so long. It probably wasn't here anymore. There was no way... “I thought you might be able to hear me in your dreams.” Her voice became a near whisper as she finished the sentence. Her words stopped me dead in my tracks. My resolve began to crack. I looked back at her, trying to keep it together. There was a tidal wave of emotion washing over me. If only she knew how much I thought about her. “You were right.” I heard you in my dreams for ten agonizingly long years. The pressure on my heart and soul had been building since the moment I first saw her again. She

still wore my bracelet, even now. That had to mean something right? “Are you still married?” I winced as the words came out, but I had to know. I shouldn't have brought her back here. This was all too goddamn painful. What the fuck was I thinking? “What happened to Elmo?” Molly looked at me warily. She was definitely trying to stay out of the hard rain that was about to fall, shielded safely under her umbrella of fantasy. If we didn't talk about any of it, then we wouldn't be soaked to our bones with guilt and regret. “Fuck Elmo,” I replied harsher than I wanted. That pressure inside me boiled over. I thought I could pretend, but with her so close I couldn’t bare it any longer. I watched her face drop as I shattered the fantasy that we were just old friends out for a walk down memory lane. Molly crossed her arms and turned her back to me. Dammit! How did Richard do it? How could he put his emotions in a box like a fucking robot while I always wore mine on my sleeve? That was the only thing he had that I was envious of; the ability to not be passionate. All passion ever did was hurt the ones I loved. “I'm sorry. I'm a fucking mess, Moll.”

“No.” Molly snapped back around, her voice took on a ragged edge to it. She was suppressing an urge to cry. “You don't get to just ride in here and fuck with my life because you're a mess. That's bullshit!” “One for one?” I took a few steps closer. One for one was a game we used to play. We did it when we were young and shy about what we wanted. I ask a question, then she asks a question, or vice versa. It was basically Truth or Dare without the Dare. It's how I found out she was terrified of albino cats and how she found out I hated the sound of damp fingers down the side of an inflated balloon. As we grew into two horny teens One for One got a hell of a lot steamier. Now as adults the game was going to change again. It would never be enough, but maybe knowing one thing about the other person might help a little. Molly's puffy pink lips pressed together in a tight line as she considered it. Even behind her glasses, I could see the ache in her eyes. She wanted everything to be like it was between us, but knew that was just a dream. “Do you have any idea how long I waited for you?” Molly threw her hands up. “I waited and waited and fucking waited! Not a word from you until now?”

“I'm a bastard.” “You're goddamn right, you're—” “No, Molly. A bastard.” I ran a hand over my head, brushing my chin-length hair out of my face. “My perfect mother had a one night stand with some musician from Tennessee during a real low point in my parent’s marriage.” I spread my arms out. “And I'm the result.” “What? No...” Molly's stopped and gaped, not knowing what to really do with that bombshell. Eventually she filled the silence by saying, “I'm sorry to hear that. What does that mean exactly? You’re not a King?” “Not biologically, no. Will, Richard's dad adopted me when he found out about the whole thing. I guess they were able to keep everything quiet, but it was messy. Real messy..” Molly wrapped herself tightly with her arms and stayed quiet for far too long. “Is that why you left me?” “I didn’t know I was adopted until I was seventeen. I found out in the car ride over to the airport.” I paused. I’d never told anyone this story before. It was hard to hear the words out loud. “I never left you, Moll. I was taken.” “Jesus... By who?” She sounded horrified. “One for one.” It was my turn to ask a question, besides I'd already said too much. She could do so much damage to my family with the information I

just told her. “Are you still married?” Molly sighed heavily. “Yes.” I slumped against a tree, idly rubbing my hand against the rough bark. What was I hoping for? Finally my fingers brushed across something cool and smooth. I snapped my eyes down and confirmed that it was what I was looking for. I crouched down and cleared away the brush. Holy shit! It was still here! “Moll, you have to see this.” I pulled out my phone's light and lit the side of the tree. Molly walked over slowly, a cautious interest in her dark eyes. What on a tree could possibly be so interesting? Some sort of carving maybe? “When they forced me to leave Caldwell Hope, I wasn't allowed to bring anything identifiable. I had no idea what was going to happen to me so I took the only thing that ever mattered to me and I hid it out here.” It took a good amount of effort, but I was eventually able to wriggle the charm free. The branch that held the bracelet had grown in the years I was away and stretched out the bracelet. It was too big for even my wrist, but that was fine. I only cared about the heart pendent. I grabbed her wrist, my thumb rubbed across the bracelet charm I'd given her so long ago. Her skin was butter silk and made my fingertips tremble. She didn't pull away.

“I was going to come back for it, but then I heard you were married and the thought of seeing it again was too painful.” It was difficult, but I forced myself to look up at her. Her glasses shined brilliantly in the moonlight and made her eyes agonizingly unreadable. “I'm— I'm trying to get a divorce,” Molly said, reluctantly. “I was trying to convince Jason to sign the paperwork, but... well. You saw how that went earlier tonight.” “That was your husband!” I was now even more furious with that biker scumbag. I should've stayed and put that motherfucker in the hospital! A husband should protect their wife not hurt them. “There were good times too.” She turned and the light refracted away so that I could see her eyes. They were full to the brim with tears that were just waiting to fall. It made me feel horrible for shouting at her. “I'm sorry.” I stood up and thumbed the first rolling tear off her cheek. “You deserve better, that's all.” “That was the only time he’d ever laid a hand on me. He was drunk.” “That doesn’t make it OK, Molly.” “I know.” She lowered her head and I pulled her in for a tight hug. It felt like I had been on fire for as long as I

could remember and she was a fire extinguisher. Her skin was warm, despite the light chill. Having her that close again lifted a massive weight from my heart. She shivered against me, but I knew it wasn't from the cold breeze rolling off the water. Something clicked inside of me, I took her face in my hand and I kissed her. I refused to waste any more of our lives. Her lips mashed into mine messily. We were groping teenagers again; embracing each other like every breath was our last. It all felt so natural, so right. She was the woman of my dreams and I was her long lost love. Not even Disney could write our love story. Then she tore herself away and it all came crashing down. “Take me home,” Molly said sullenly, stepping backward with the deliberate lack of cheer that a funeral procession might have. “Go? I thought we—” I started. “You were wrong. This was a mistake.” “You're still wearing the bracelet though...” I stepped forward and she kept pace, staying out of my reach. “I don't understand?” Molly sighed, running both hands through her hair. “I don't wear it as a reminder of how much I loved you. I feel that every day. I know how much I

still love you. I wear it as a reminder of the pain I never want to feel again. It doesn't matter that I'm now single. I can't trust you, Luke. You're just going to break my heart like you did before.” “Molly—” I protested. “I promised myself I'd never let anyone hurt me again.” Molly pinched the heart charm between her fingers tightly enough to turn her fingers white. “Especially not you.”

RICHARD TWELVE

“M

orning, criminal.” Gloria smiled, she was sitting on one of two benches just outside the police station when I walked out. She had two blessed cups of black heaven, one in either hand. She was the last person I expected to see this morning. Gloria wore upper-thigh length, fashionably ripped shorts, a gray tank top and a sleeveless denim over-shirt without buttons. She tapped the ground with her dark flats, stood up, and handed me a coffee. “You're a life saver,” I said. “Least I can do. I saw them tow your car and figured you might need a ride out of here.” “I can call for a driver.” I said between warm sips of coffee. With a little caffeine in me I almost

felt human again. “I don't want to keep you from the Rocket.” “No such luck, I'm afraid.” Gloria shrugged and started for her car in the larger-than-necessary parking lot. “You happened to get arrested before my one day off a week.” She lowered her oversized sunglasses and flashed me a look that said she liked what she saw, but also understood I wasn't at my finest either. “Shower or food first?” “Shower. Definitely shower.” I wasn't expecting a Ritz-Carlton, but the holding cell's mattress stank of almost every fluid a human could secrete. I chose to sit in the metal chair for the night instead. That stank much less. I needed to burn these clothes. Gloria drove me back to the guest house I inhabited at the base of my father's estate. “Fancy.” She whistled, walking into the three level stucco and stone guest house behind me. “It's alright.” I peeled off my ruined over and under shirts, casually tossing them on the floor near the trash can. “Are you hungry?” Gloria asked, dragging a hand over the polished marble counter top. Her eyes licked up my naked torso. My broad chest and abs were still bulging from the sets of push ups and sit ups I did in the holding cell. When there was no chance of sleep it was the only way to keep myself occupied.

“I could eat.” My eyes returned the favor, dragged down her petite form and milky exposed legs. I was hungry. The last thing I'd eaten was her. It didn't fill me up, but it sure as hell was satisfying. Deciding against letting my cock fully wake until I'd at least taken a shower, I thought of all the colors and smells coming out of the cell's backedup toilet. That killed my hard on immediately. I'd have to remember that particular horror show if I was going to be spending any more time Gloria in public. I was arrested at the worst possible time. We were so close to actually having sex that it frustrated the hell out of my body. One way or another I needed to vent this pent up sexual frustration. I used my time in the shower to both clean up and get myself off. I was finding it harder and harder to think straight with Gloria around. The water streamed over me as I stroked my thick cock. In the privacy of the shower I was free to remember everything I'd forced out of my head in jail. I had to slam a palm up against the wall to keep my strength through the fantasy. Gloria's smooth thighs were split over my shoulders and the warm, wonderful taste of her pussy in my mouth. I imagined what it'd be like to slip my swollen head

inside those tight lower lips of hers and fuck her till she couldn't walk. I came soon after. Drying myself off, I struggled coming to a decision about Gloria. I dressed in thin khakis and a linen shirt—something light and breezy for summer —and began to plan. I liked to plan things out. I liked control in all things. When I had a clear path to what I wanted everything in my life made sense. I wanted to win the inheritance, more than that... I wanted to crush my brother. I would figure out a way to get him back for what he did to me, but to really win I'd have to get a girl pregnant. That was the real problem. I wanted to be a father...eventually. But it would have to be with the right woman, a woman I truly cared about. For as much as I wanted to win, the thought of bringing a child into the world out of obligation instead of love made me feel hollow and sick inside. Then again, the clock was ticking. If something happened to Dad, we’d both lose everything. It was too dark a thought to dwell on for long. Dammit, Dad. Why did you do this? I bedded whoever I wanted without risk or attachment, easily moving from woman to woman. I did it all on my own terms, in full control.

I liked my life! Feeling sorry for myself wasn't going to change anything. The first step was to find a woman who wanted kids. Unfortunately that eliminated Gloria right off the bat. My heart sank a little. Gloria was just a pleasant distraction, one I'd have to get rid of if I wanted to seriously beat Lucas. I walked into the kitchen fully dressed; swabbing the last bit of water out of my ears with a small towel I kept on my shoulder. I could smell that Gloria was cooking something, maybe even several somethings. When I finally turned the corner I saw that the counter top, stove and sink were full of pots, pans, dishes and utensils. Had she used every piece of cookware I had? “Hey,” she said, looking a bit flustered. “I started making some eggs, but I think your stupid oven is busted.” “It's just unplugged,” I laughed. “All of this was for eggs?” “That's what it started as. Then I looked up a quick recipe to make in the microwave, but that came out like garbage.” Gloria had the water running and was washing some of the messy dishes. “I just said the hell with it and ordered some food through the Foodler app on my phone.” I laughed again, walking over to give her a hand cleaning up. “You didn't have to make anything.”

“I'm usually a good cook!” She protested “I just —I don't know what happened. I blame your kitchen. I think it hates me.” “You're probably right. It hates me too.” I rolled up my sleeves, stood next to her and took a large glass casserole dish into the empty sink. Her shoulder brushed against my elbow, and sent goosebumps up my arm. I swallowed away the notion that forgetting about Gloria would be easy. “So what's for breakfast?” “I hope up you like Chinese food.” Her smirk had a tinge of self-consciousness about it. It was actually kind of cute. “I couldn't find any diners that delivered.” “I'm just impressed you found a Chinese place open at nine-thirty in the morning.” Almost like clockwork, when we finished doing the dishes the food arrived. “So what did they end up charging you with?” Gloria asked with half a mouthful of fried rice some time later. She'd ordered a small mountain of food, which was good because I didn't realize how hungry I was until I could smell it. I didn't answer her until I downed half a container's-worth of Beef Pad Thai. “Possession with intent to sell.” Gloria smiled mischievously. There was a glinting spark in her gray eyes. “Who'd of thought you had a wild streak in you?”

I opened my mouth to explain that it was my brother's doing, and because it was only a little over the limit, it being my first offense—and who my family was—I was most likely going to get the charges dropped. Maybe I'd have to pay a fine. I was going to tell her all that, but I kept quiet and shrugged instead. Let her think what she wants, I thought with a thrill. I was always a bad boy in my own right, but I'd never been the wild one. That was always Lucas. Breaking the law and living by your own rules was liberating, I could see why it was so compelling to Lucas. We chatted lightly as we finished our meal. When I put my chopsticks down triumphantly, the mountain of food was just scattered wreckage. “Who was that guy at your party? The one that looked like the dirty biker version of Fabio?” “Lucas,” I replied, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “My brother.” “Ah,” Gloria pushed a small battered piece of chicken across her plate idly. “I take it you two don't get along.” “That's a bit of an understatement.” “What's the deal with you two? I have an older sister out in Washington and yeah, we fight a lot on holidays, but who cares? We're family. Why do you hate each other so much?”

The topic had come up a few times, and each time I was able to redirect it. It was hard for me to open up to strangers, even the ones I liked. “We have our reasons,” I said cryptically. Gloria scowled at me. I sighed, lounged back into the couch and accepted that she wasn't going to let it go this time. “Lucas is everything I'm not.” I paused and attempted to clarify. “Lucas— He should've been so much more. He's naturally talented in many ways, not just with music.” “Wait, Lucas King—Lucky Luke from Gunmetal Tears?” I could see the realization dawn on her, followed by a feeling of foolishness that she didn't figure it out sooner. “How do you mean more? Those guys had at a few bestselling albums...when they were still together. Not many people can pull off the whole rock star thing.” This wasn't coming out right. Gloria quickly texted a message then set her phone back down. I could talk for hours about so many things, but my family was not one of them. It was easier for me to compartmentalize all that pain and anger, push it away, and focus on other things that were important like running my business. “I worked my ass off for my degree in some of the toughest schools in the world, then had huge shoes to fill when my father got sick and couldn't

run the family company anymore. “My brother should have been right there with me the whole way. My father prepared us to take over an empire and when the time came, Lucas wouldn't answer the call. He'd rather go off do drugs and be a waste than to uphold the King legacy.” “Who’s to say the King legacy ends at business?” Gloria asked, playing the devil's advocate. “That's how we are though. For generations the King family ran businesses. Ever since the eighteen hundreds when Gerald King came to America with the fleet of ships he owned.” “Gunmetal Tears were a big deal for their genre. Your brother definitely built something there.” “That's just a flash in the pan,” I waved it off, not able or willing to hide my disdain for his band. “Everything I struggled with in high school, he just breezed through. Lucas could've been every bit the businessman I am, probably even more so. He's naturally cunning and brilliant, but would rather squander that immense potential than use it for anything productive.” “I don't know... It sounds like he's just doing what he loves.” There's doing what you love, then there's being selfish.

After everything our father did for him, taking a stake in the family business was the least he could do. If anyone should understand what it was like to be a part of something greater it should've been Lucas. He'd be nothing right now if it wasn't for my father. And he repays him by abandoning everything the King family stands for? For as mad at Lucas as I was, I couldn't tell Gloria any of that. “Your sister in Washington—” Instead, it was better to just change the subject. “What does she do?” “She's married to a Navy seaman and has two kids.” Gloria snorted in exasperation. She must not approve of the guy her sister is with. “That's what she does.” Gloria's phone vibrated. It was a text from a friend. “Looks like Lucky Luke is playing an acoustic show this Friday at the...” Gloria's face screwed up like she'd drank some spoiled milk. “What is it?” “He's playing at the Family Room. I thought they shut that cesspit down.” She glanced up at me then added, “It's this shitty rundown venue the next town over that's been around way too long and needs to get bulldozed.” “I take it you're not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. The owners are assholes. It's got a reputation for letting minors drink. My friend's underage sister left there drunk one night and wrapped her car around a tree.” I wanted to ask if the girl was alright, but the dark expression on Gloria's face told me she wasn't. “Sorry to hear that,” I said. During the lull in conversation that followed, a wicked idea came to me. “Are you free Friday?” “Hmm.” Gloria thought about it, then shrugged. “I should be able to have Judy cover for me. What do you have in mind?” “Payback.”

LUCAS THIRTEEN

“W

hat's up, guys? I'm from Gunmetal Tears. They call me Lucky Luke.” I said into the microphone at the Family Room. The packed house lost their fucking minds. I felt the vibration of their screaming worship deep in my chest. It made me smile. This was my first time back on stage in years. There was this ferocious energy you get while you perform, it was a drug all its own. I knew a lot of guys that chased that high off stage and never lived to tell about it. Music was always different for me. It wasn't about a god complex. It wasn't about the money or prestige, or even fucking whoever you wanted. It was about releasing all the anger, pain, hope and love that threatened to tear me apart now that

Molly was gone. It was the same reason I started playing professionally to begin with. I ran my fingers through the frets of my Fender guitar and began to strum out the opening to our first number one hit. The guitar and mic were hooked into the same acoustic amplifier stack, otherwise they'd have been lost to the roar of the nearly two hundred people packed into this club. Sadness, discord, longing, and rage; our dark, melancholy rock tapped into the pain that so many other people felt when they lost someone they loved. Was it really such a wonder that our songs resonated with so many people? To fuck up and hurt people was all so human. The first song bled into the second, then the third, then the forth. My fingers ached from a lack of practice. It had been a long time since I played any of these songs even privately. I didn't need to play them often anymore to do them justice. The notes, the words, it was all just as much a part of me as the nose on my face. One of the two color changing spotlights on me popped loudly, then went dark. I'd never played the Family Room before. The place was a fucking joke. I was told that it used to be an Italian restaurant twenty years ago. In that time, all they'd done to the place was tear out the seating to open it up into a big hall.

The only modern thing about it was the sprinkler system that was no doubt forced onto the owner. That was one of the few things I always checked in person when I booked a gig. No pyrotechnics and a working sprinkler installed. As long as the venue was safe for my fans, I could give a shit about the color of the M&Ms backstage. Honestly I didn't give a damn about the room's natural acoustics or even about the audio quality. My style always had a dirty sound to begin with. I'm glad they liked the music, but I didn't play for my fans. I played for myself. This was my church. Molly was my God and this was how I prayed to her. I hadn't talked to her since I dropped her off after the party. I spent that night outside, about a block away keeping vigil over her in case her asshole ex-husband came back. He didn't. The following week I kept my distance and watched over her silently in a rented car. The inheritance war was on in full. Dick and I fucked with each other as much as possible. I spread rumors that he had gonorrhea, he made sure that every time I stepped into a public place I was mobbed with people. We were little boys throwing toys at each other and sneaking painful jabs in when the adults were out of the room, except we were all grown up and

could do far worse than throw tantrums. The thought of fucking anyone but Molly now that she was single felt like a betrayal, even if she didn't want me any more. For as ruthless and corporate as Dick was, I was still pretty sure he wasn't going to knock some random girl up to win a bet. We were at a stalemate so we just made the other's life as miserable as possible. “Fuck all this shit.” Halfway through my fifth song I stopped. I couldn't do it. I couldn't mindlessly play Gunmetal's hits. All I did this past week was watch over Molly and write music. I barely ate or slept. “You guys want to hear something new, something bloody, something downright heartbreaking?” I walked the stage, pausing between certain words to thrust the mic toward the audience. The crowd cheered after new, bloody and heartbreaking. Cell phone cameras switched from flash to record. There were a few songs and stories kicking around my mind and heart, but nothing was finished enough to be recorded yet. In the grand scheme of things it didn't matter. I had no idea what I was going to say or play. I opened my mouth and let out the words that I needed to get rid of. “I wanna tell you a quick story of this prick I

knew once. Lets call him... ” I set the mic on the one stool in the middle of the stage and took a long draft of the beer that was resting there. “Unlucky Luke.” The crowd laughed. “Luke once knew this girl. Dark haired, dark eyed, bright-souled. You always hear about the one that got away.” I plucked at my strings somberly. “But I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about the one he stupidly pushed away. “Seasons turned to dust and memories, stars fell from the sky, and the fiery heart that led his way cooled and quieted.” I walked my fingers higher up on the guitar's neck like a hangman's noose as I played. “Y'see he waited too long. “Waiting is a game for fools and Unlucky Luke was their king!” I couldn't tell when it happened, but at some point my speaking voice had become my singing voice. I hadn't planned on playing Molly's song. It was like a cough that itched the bottom of my lungs, it needed to come out. “Fate stole him, but fear kept him. He won every battle, but lost every war. Time and victory defeated him.” I strummed hard, squeezing the head stock tightly just below the tuners and let the instrument hang by one hand. The thrum choked off into a flat, uncomfortable sound. I didn't wear a strap so the

motion gave the effect that the gallows had gave way and the guitar hung by its neck until dead. “When he finally came home to his castle someone else had already fallen out of his throne. All she wanted was love.” I snapped up the guitar and started playing again. The sound was rough and loud, discordant at first, then it settled into a fast melodic rhythm. “The king of fools should've moved heaven itself—” My hands moved automatically, continuing the same melody, but my words broke off when I saw Dick enter with the dark haired girl I saw him with at the party. Were they a thing? Thoughts of losing to Dick twisted my stomach into a knot. Right behind the smug looking couple, another man walked in. He had a dark formal uniform and badge, but no gun. The man didn't look happy. When he pulled a pad out of his breast pocket I realized he wasn't a cop. He was a fire marshal. The only thing fully up to code on this place was the sprinkler system and that was probably done only to avoid suspicion. How the Family Room snuck under the radar with everything else for so long was a testament to the power of bribes. This place was about to go down. Hard. There was a burst of movement behind me. I snapped a glance over and saw the club's owner run

out the back entrance where the bands load in their gear. He realized he was fucked and decided to escape and cut his losses. By the speed he was running there must've been more going down than selling beer to minors. He must've been selling drugs too. On the way out, that unbelievable prick pulled the fire alarm. Well that was one way to ensure people don’t chase after you. That new sprinkler system sputtered for half a second then rocketed into action, water seemed to rain down in buckets. I immediately stopped playing as a look of abject terror washed over the crowd. For the second time in one night the crowd lost their minds, but this time for a darker reason. There wasn't any fire, but there was a real threat that people could be hurt by trampling. “Everyone, calm down!” I shouted through my microphone. The water hadn't knocked out the power to my speakers yet. Even with the added amplification my words were still only barely audible over the frenzy of fear. “There is no fire!” Both Richard and the fire marshal were doing their best to herd the horde of people through the open double doors. The utter mistake of Richard's timing was written all over his face. He thought he'd close the place down as I was

on stage and make me look like an asshole for not completing the show. It actually wasn't a bad plan. Unfortunately he had no idea it would turn into a goddamn riot. I wanted to jump down and help the people who fell, but I'd just be adding another body to the chaos. I stayed on the stage and tried to calm everyone as best I could. I told them a fire marshal was already here. I told them where the exits were and to pick up the damn people they pushed over. For nearly five minutes it was madness in that little club. It took so much longer for people to get out of there than it should've. I shivered to think what the place would've been like had it really been on fire. The thought made me nauseous. Soon enough the last of the stragglers walked or were helped out the door. Fortunately it didn't look like anyone was hurt too badly. No one had to be carried out, thank Christ! The sprinklers never stopped. I was soaked to the bone as I did a final sweep to make sure no one was trapped anywhere or needed help. And for a short time I was the only person left inside the sad, waterlogged building. I stepped back up on the stage and attempted to finish my song to Molly. The mechanical rainfall had long since shorted out my amp and ruined all my equipment. The

guitar wasn't electric, so I ripped out the chord and continued to play. The hollow laminated spruce and mahogany body filled with water, making the guitar heavy and giving the music a tinny sound. The course strings made my water-wrinkled fingers bleed. I still couldn't find it in myself to stop. “The king of fools should've moved heaven itself to get her back,” I sang to no one. In a movie, Molly would've walked in, heard my song and seen me soaked and pitiful. We'd have met halfway in a sweeping hug, then I would've kissed her under the fake rain. Half a dozen separate sirens rapidly closed in from every direction. Looking out over the deserted hall I truly felt empty inside, had there actually been a fire I didn't know that I'd even have tried to leave. I played until blood ran down my arms and one of my strings snapped, then I played some more. My tears mingled invisibly with the falling water. Finally a thick, gloved hand of a fireman landed gently on my shoulder. “C'mon, son. It's all over. It's time to go.”

RICHARD FOURTEEN

“L

eave the bottle,” I said, checking my watch. The waiter nodded. He finished topping my glass off, then set the expensive bottle of something French down on the table. My date for the evening, Madison Grace, was the Governor’s daughter. I sipped my glass more quickly than was probably wise. The night—and this date—was far from over. I felt a sense of exhaustion at the thought of finishing it. Madison had been in the bathroom for what felt like an hour. The appetizers came, got cold and were taken away. Any moment the entrees would be here. I asked the waiter if they had anything Asian inspired, but he respectfully gave me his regrets and said there wasn’t.

What I wouldn’t give for some average Chinese food on my couch with Gloria right now. I sighed, feeling a pang of regret. The wine helped with that, I thought, draining the rest of the glass. The time for distractions was over. The Family Room fiasco showed me a lot of things. Above all it showed me what kind of fool I was. I was so wrapped up in petty revenge I let my pride get the best of me. I could’ve brought the fire marshal there well before the show, but I wanted to humiliate Lucas instead. Because of that, people got hurt. Gloria got hurt… She was standing near the doors when the crowd burst through. She’d already been kicked and stepped on several times before I was able to pull her out of the flood of people. She shouldn’t have been there. I never should’ve let any of that happen. The harsh spike of her scream rattled through my head more often than not. All I could think about was what would’ve happened had I not reached her in time. It scared the hell out of me. I set my empty glass roughly down on the table and snapped off its stem. My hand was shaking when I let the now-useless wine glass fall to the

floor. The tables were fairly private—as they should’ve been considering the cost of this place— but that didn’t stop some heads from craning over to see the source of the sound and my cursing. Within seconds someone came over with a replacement, apologizing profusely for the defective glass. There was nothing wrong with the wine glass. Both of my knuckles had turned white from my balled up fists. I was lucky it didn’t shatter in my hands. I rubbed a hand over my face, reminding myself that Gloria was fine. I had rushed her to the nearest hospital. She only had two sprained ribs and a concussion thankfully. Sitting in the waiting room, I realized I was going about everything backwards. I shouldn’t be trying to hurt my brother; I should be trying to beat him. There was only one way to do that. I left Gloria a letter the following day, ending whatever it was that we had. If what we had was anything at all. Maybe in a different time or life things could’ve worked out between us. There was no changing the facts. She didn’t want kids right now, and right now was when I needed one. It was a bitterly hard pill to swallow, but it was necessary. I was going to win this challenge, not

because I needed the inheritance, but because Lucas didn’t deserve it. He lost that privilege when he burned the opportunity I gave him. The King legacy was too important and needed to be preserved. Lucas was too selfish to understand that. That’s why I refused to play this game with him any longer. There needed to be a winner and a loser as quickly as possible, because next time we fought someone like Gloria could get hurt. I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen. I spent every evening since with a new woman. So far none had been an appropriate fit. The dates always ended shortly after dinner. Gloria was still too fresh in my mind to take any of them home with me. I looked into the glass of dark red wine. It was the same color as Gloria’s lipstick… I smiled thinking back to the night she gave me the private tour of both her coffee shop and her milky, smooth body. And she said she was a terrible tour guide… I had seen Gloria half a dozen more times after she’d picked me up from the police station. Each date was exhilarating and wonderfully different. We shouldn’t have been able to mesh together as well as we did. She was quirky, rude, impulsive and opinionated; she was my opposite in many ways. Gloria was beautiful in a way I’d never seen

before. In eastern philosophies, she’d have been the yin to my yang. Here, however, she was only an unforgettable memory that I would carry with me for the rest of my life. In my darker moments I would hate that she couldn’t be both. “I am so sorry, darling.” Madison materialized. Her immaculate, long golden hair was done into an exquisite up-do. She wore a floor-length maroon ball gown and wore enough diamond jewelry to fund a small nation. I stood up and got her chair for her. “Time simply slipped away from me. Where were we?” “You were telling me about your father, I believe.” “Oh yes! We were discussing his reelection fundraiser campaign.” Madison’s face lit up. Joy. The waiter arrived just in time with our entrees to divert the conversation once more. I couldn’t wait for the dinner to be over. Madison hadn’t been particularly awful or anything, just ordinary. Madison, like every other girl I’d seen this week, had been more of the same. They all came from money; they ran various video or traditional blogs about fashion or modeling and tended to discuss the important or successful work their parents did. Had Gloria ruined these women for me by

virtue of being different and exciting? Madison had been the most tolerable thus far though. She’d at least been through college, a psychology major at that. And although she didn’t outright say it, it appeared she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and go into a career in politics. Politics was generally a little too slimy for me, but it was a nice divergence to the hollow, empty conversations I’d had with other women this week. I didn’t think it was going to work out with Madison either, but we’d probably take the scenic route, instead of the highway, when I dropped her off after dinner. “I would, if you don’t mind of course, like to dispense with the pleasantries and discuss the parameters necessary for my impregnation.” Madison cut a small piece of her duck. “Beg your pardon?” I coughed, nearly spitting out my bite of filet mignon. She casually chewed and swallowed, then touched the cloth napkin to the corner of her mouth and cleaned a mess that wasn’t there. “My menstrual cycle is exactly twenty eight days, with my day of ovulation arriving in the middle of each month.” “I don’t mean to sound rude, Madison.” I forced down my bite of steak and chased it with a long gulp of wine. “Why are we talking about

this?” “Your father’s will, silly.” She smiled like a talk show host, cocking her head slightly. Not one strand of her perfect hair so much as flitted out place. “I assume because we’re meeting at all, my genetic make-up is acceptable.” “Hold on.” I leaned forward in a harsh whisper. I only told Gloria about this and I doubted she was the gossiping type. “How did you know about my father’s will?” “I keep my ears open for whispers. News travels fast.” Madison seemed to alternate between data analyst and valley girl with astonishing ease. She shrugged. “Some news travels faster than others.” “I don’t know what you might’ve heard—” I started, feeling a little on the defensive. The arrangement between my father, Lucas and I wasn’t something I wanted getting around. “Oh posh.” Madison waved a hand dismissively. She winked at me and gave me a knowing smile. “I’m the daughter of a politician. Your secret’s safe with me.” Madison was perfect; uncomfortably so. She had this curated feel to her, like everything she wore, did, said, and even the way she moved was all decided on by a committee. Madison was perfect by design. She was a child’s plastic doll that had just been removed from its packaging.

Was this what it was like to be a politician? She was the exact opposite of Gloria’s rougharound-the-edges, brutally honest, take-noprisoners attitude. “May we get started?” She asked. “By all means,” I said, curious as to what get started meant. I leaned back in my chair and watched in awe as she pulled out a thick folder from her purse. The folder and the paper inside of it was half the traditional size, so that it could fit in her purse. That definitely wasn’t in there before, I thought. Did she have that packet stashed somewhere here? Was that why she was gone for so long? “Here we are,” she said with the tone and focus of a woman who enjoyed doing her own taxes. She slid the document across the table for me to review. I riffled through it as she talked. “I have it all laid out here. Blue-tabbed pages in the front are social events so we can gradually introduce ourselves to the public as a couple. The wedding preparation and ceremony are pages seventeen through thirty—” “What’s this in the back? The red section.” I’d read novels shorter than this manuscript. It was also written mostly in legal-ese, which was both offputting and impressive. My attorneys would be reviewing this to make sure I kept both my kidneys.

“That is how we met.” She smiled again as if remembering the day fondly. “It was warm summer evening in Vienna. You were on a break between collage semesters and I’d flown in to visit my father. We met through a mutual friend at an intimate cocktail party.” “We met at the country club party a few weeks ago.” I said flatly, my eyes narrowing at her blatant lie. “That timeline—” Madison said the word as if the truth was just one of many reasonable options to choose from. “—wouldn’t be socially acceptable if you plan on beating your brother to that which is rightly yours.” “Rightly mine?” My lips pressed together forming a thin line across my face. How much did she know about my family? “Well, of course.” Her face brightened. “You’ve followed in your father’s footsteps and expanded his already impressive empire. Lucas on the other hand—” Her eyebrows raised and her lips fell disapprovingly. “Lucas played guitar in a band that is no longer relevant.” Madison’s change in expression was so subtle that unless you were looking for it, you’d miss it. So she did have emotions under there somewhere… I was just glad she didn’t know about my mother’s affair or about Lucas actually being my half brother. I didn’t like my brother, but there was

something in the way she talked about him that bothered me. It was a weird juvenile emotion. It was alright if I beat Lucas up and humiliated him, but I didn’t like it when others did it in my presence. “What’s in this for you, Madison? It’s obviously not the money you’re after.” “Status, darling.” She said softly, her lips snapping back into their inoffensive smile. “I plan on running for Senate eventually. I’ve done my research on you, Richard. Unlike your vagabond brother, you kept your public image clean and professional and your promiscuous nature very discrete. I can appreciate that.” Madison waived the waiter over, ordered a glass of dark juice, then continued. “You’re widely regarded as a leader and man to be respected. You’ll make for a perfect political spouse.” “You’re making quite the assumption, Madison.” I took a sip of wine. She had a lot of sound points, but everything was so mechanical. It was odd that I suddenly disliked stark pragmatism. That’s because it’s boring, said a small voice in my head that sounded a lot like Gloria. “Why exactly should I pick you?” I asked, reeling my drifting mind back in and focusing on Madison. I had an entire town to choose from. Why should I pick her?

“I’m your only real choice.” Madison looked genuinely confused I didn’t see what was so obvious to her. She leaned in closer to spell it out for me. Madison began rattling off the women I’d seen so far this week. “Paige and Veronica are secretly addicted to various drugs; Kelsey is infertile due to a car accident; Brittany…plays on the other team, but was put up to your date by her father, and that leaves only Hailey. She’s your best bet, but her family’s poor reputation is sure to affect the King brand negatively.” I said nothing. I knew some of that was true just from the interactions I had with them. “Were you spying on me?” “Lord no!” Madison’s chuckle bordered on genuine. “Who has the time for that sort of thing? I just have a lot of vigilant friends. Those same friends learned something about your brother as well. Would you like to know?” I rolled my hand forward, indicating her to continue. I hated spectacle and subterfuge, they reminded me too much of work. “Your brother, Lucas has been busy as well.” Madison dangled the information like a fisherman casting a line. “The night of your party, while you were out gallivanting with the coffeehouse barista, Lucas disappeared out in the woods with the love of his life. It’s only a matter of time until he gets

her pregnant accidentally or otherwise. “Pardon my boldness, Richard. Frankly speaking you’re running out of time.” Madison tried and mostly succeeded at suppressing her proud smile. “You do want to win, don’t you?” She could see in my eyes that I wanted to win. There wasn’t sadistic satisfaction in her features, she was just a woman who could recognize and capture opportunity when it came along. Madison was a shark that swam with dolphins. “I’ll need the evening to review your proposal.” This felt like a hostile takeover. I didn’t like being manipulated. “Of course.” She spoke with practiced indifference of a news anchor fluidly changing topics from a deadly house fire to a puff piece on this year’s poodle hairstyles. “Dessert?” In the back of my head, my analytical side forced me to look at the facts. Madison really was the best option. I was letting my pride get in the way of progress. You’re not doing this for love, I scolded myself. I left Gloria to win. If I hesitated now, then I left her for nothing. “My father’s hosting a dinner next weekend; I’d like you to join me.” I paid for our meal and held her chair for her. “Lovely,” she said, bowing her head slightly. It was a submissive gesture to bolster my confidence

in having made the right decision. “Shall I take you home?” “No need, I have a car waiting here. Sex isn’t necessary for thirteen days. I’ve already sent you a calendar update through your phone. I raised an eyebrow, then checked my email. There it was—her fertility cycle; all of it. She’d also gone so far as planning out the optimal times and positions for intercourse. Madison was a psychology major; I’d have to remember that.

LUCAS FIFTEEN

T

here was a knock at my door. “Leave it!” I shouted at housekeeping from the bathroom, as I turned off the shower. Twice a day they dropped off food for me at my father’s request. It’d been a long time since I needed someone to take care of me, but I could tell it made him happy to do it so I didn’t complain. I was going to find a place outside of town, Dad wouldn’t hear it. He booked me an indefinite suite at the hotel he owned a few minutes drive from the main drag. It was the tallest building around and I was staying on the top floor. I had a great view of most of the valley, but spent most of my time watching the Matt Baker Elementary school for signs of Molly or motorcycles. She often stayed late and I was

always ready to rush over there at the first sign of trouble. Part of me was disappointed that trouble never came. Selfish, I know, but it’d at least be a chance to see her again… The knocking sounded again. They were insistent today. I brushed my hair back and wrapped the towel around my waist. I was still dripping wet when I decided to answer it. Maybe there was a problem with billing or a maintenance call or something. I swung the door open and was about point out the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the door, but all the steam went out of my aggravation when I saw who it was. “Hi,” Molly said, adjusting her glasses. She wore a red button-down blouse, slacks and sneakers. Her auburn hair was pinned up, but had the telltale flyaways of a long day out of the house. She must have come right over after work. “Molly,” I exclaimed, jerking backward so suddenly that my towel unfastened around my waist. “Shit.” I caught it, then shouldered open the closing door to keep it from slamming in her face. “Hi. Come in.” After everything that happened, she was the last person I expected to see. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” She let her gaze drop briefly to the corded muscles of my

lower stomach. The V in my hips showed more and more as I bunched the towel ineffectually. Define bad? Richard just announced he was seeing some politician’s daughter formally. I saw a picture of the girl; she looked fake and plastic like an inflatable doll given life. I wondered what happened with the short, spiky-haired brunette he was hanging out with. I was surprised they were together as long as they were; she didn’t strike me as his type. Fuck it, I guess it doesn’t matter. If he’s formally with this new blonde chick, that’s no good for me. “Nah, I’m good. Everything’s good,” I lied, holding the door open for her. “Are you alright?” “I’m alright,” She said, looking around. There was something off about her voice. Was she lying too? “Hold on a sec.” I found a clean pair of jeans in the back hallway and threw them on just out of sight. “How did you find me? I’m not listed downstairs.” “Elmo is.” Molly peeked into the hallway, hoping to catch a peek but was too late. There was a spark of cunning in her eyes. I snorted, zipping up my fly with a smile. Clever as always. I spotted a shirt, but left it. Let her see half naked. She used to like it when I went shirtless, and from the lusty look in her eyes, I

could tell she still does. It didn’t hurt that I put on twenty pounds of solid muscle since the last time she saw me. “Jesus, your hands!” Molly glared worriedly at my bandaged up fingers. “Is that from the fire?” “There was no fire. It looks worse than it is.” I wiggled my fingers, then let my smile fade. “Why are you here, Molly?” “I can leave if you want.” Molly frowned and made her way to the couch. She looked worried about something. How worried did she have to be to seek me out? The vivid image of her getting slapped outside the Black Chains MC was burned into my head. Was she in some kind of trouble? I grabbed her a bottle of water from the fridge then joined her. “Last time we were together, you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to see me ever again. Are you sure everything’s alright?” I studied her looking for bruises. “If that piece of shit touched you again, I swear to God—” “It’s not that.” Molly reached out and put a hand on my knee. The warmth in her touch struck me like a blow. Fuck, I missed her. I missed this. I missed everything about my old life with her. “I heard your song, well most of it.” “My song?” I hadn’t published anything new in years. What was she talking about?

“Your performance at the Family Room,” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, half of which got stuck behind the earpiece of her glasses. “It’s all over Youtube.” “You mean your song,” I corrected. “Yeah I guess so. It was beautiful. I’d like to hear the end of it.” She smiled, a glimmer of hope on a face that was prettier than any song I could ever write. “The video cut out when the sprinklers went on.” “It’s not finished,” I said. “I don’t have an ending for it yet.” I’d been locked away for days obsessively writing and rewriting the ending. I wanted it to be perfect, but just couldn’t get it there. If it was perfect, maybe, just maybe, she might come back to me. “Oh,” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice that made my heart crack. It took everything I had not to reach out and touch her, to soothe that look away. “I don’t want to hate you, Luke. I’m hurt and pissed off, but that doesn’t undo all the good memories I have of you. I just want to understand.” “Know that despite everything that’s happened,” I put my arm over the back of the sofa and lean in. “I never stopped caring about you.” “Why did you leave me?” Her voice was so quiet.

“I—” I pushed my air out in resignation, thinking of the promise I made to my mother before she died. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.” “I’m back now, though.” My fingers twitched at how close she was. I needed to touch her, to prove to myself that she was really here. When my hand grazed the side of her face I realized how lost I was. “And I’m never leaving you again. I promise.” In the diffused light of late afternoon, Molly’s subtle freckles glowed like stars. I didn’t care if it took me the rest of my life, I’d memorize every single one of them. “How can I trust you?” Molly’s eyelids got heavier as I closed in. “You can’t.” My hand slipped behind her neck. I pulled her soft lips against mine; kissing her so passionately that it stole our breath for a moment afterward. “But I’m going to change that. I promise.” The tension, the yearning, the longing, all of it popped like an overfilled balloon. I slid my other hand around her back in a tight hug and picked her up off the couch. Our mouths parted barely enough to take in air, I carried her into the dining room. Neither of us could resist the gravity of each other and we crashed together with a sense of inevitability. It was like fate was screaming at us, “This was how it always should’ve been!” Why did it take us so fucking long to see that?

LUCAS SIXTEEN

“W

e shouldn’t be doing this,” Molly said, between kisses and gasps as I sat her down on the hardwood dinner table I never ate at. “You’re right.” In a big sweeping motion I cleared the large table of the clothes, mail and music sheets it had accumulated. We were raw, damaged and emotionally vulnerable. Sex would probably only complicate things between us. We should take things slower, catch up with each other and feel things out. Knowing something and being able to do it were two radically different things. Molly popped open the buttons down the front of her blouse as quickly as possible. I unclasped her bra, then put my hands over her hot, olive shoulders and guided all the fabric off her.

I still couldn't believe how fucking good she looked now... I carried around a few pictures of us when we were younger, but they paled in comparison to the woman she became. I stayed off social media once I found out that she had been married. What was the point? I’d have agonized over every happy photo of her and her husband, wishing—knowing—it should’ve been me instead. I laid her back on the dark wood finish; it complemented her radiant skin and highlighted her every sexy curve. The soft curls of her auburn hair spread across the table like a sunburst, outlining her further. She stretched her arms out, reaching for me, dragging me down into her. My cock throbbed at the sight of her. It was like tumbling into a dream while you were still awake. Nothing else mattered in the world but her. For the rest of the night she was all mine again. It had been well over a year since the last time I’d been laid. It always felt wrong for some reason and never satisfied me. Since coming back and seeing her I had to jerk off half a dozen times a day. I should’ve asked if she was ready for this, but the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. She bit her lip and jutted her chin forward, beckoning me. Molly didn't hide how badly she

wanted this. She sucked in air when I laid against her. Her perky nipples were firm nubs that pressed into my hard pecs. Her hand slid down my ribs, reaching my waistband and hesitated. A moment of doubt flashed across her face. “Are you alright?” I asked. Molly swallowed, then nodded. Her fingers popped the button on my jeans and worked my zipper down carefully. I wanted to ask if she trusted me, but I kissed her neck instead. I was too worried at what she might say. My own doubts surfaced but were quickly squashed when I smelled her perfume. It was stronger than it should’ve been this late in the day. She must’ve put it on before she came over. It was put on just for me… Was she hoping this would happen? I cupped her pussy over her thin work slacks. I could feel her scorching heat flare at my building pressure; it made my cock hard enough to shatter solid marble. I imagined her lower lips glossy with wet anticipation. Her breathing quickened as she moaned softly; nervous excitement in her eyes. I smoothly unclasped and took down her pants, pulling off her sneakers in the process. I kissed up her tan legs and dipped my face into her honey pot.

“Fuck,” Molly exhaled the word as if it was punched out of her. She creamed the second she felt my lips on her inner thigh. I left her white panties on, but pulled them aside. All her exquisite beauty was presented before me like a feast to a starving man. It was almost unfair that every part of her looked this amazing. My whole mouth moved up and through her delicious slit; her muscles trembled against my tongue. We had never gone this far before, the seventeen year old version of me screamed in the back of my head. I had seen and even played with her tits a little before I left, but never anything like this. Not even my wildest fantasies could capture how drunk I’d become off the taste of her pussy. Her legs twitched as I spelled her name with my tongue against her pussy. A jolt ran through her as she felt my teeth graze against her sensitive clit. Molly moaned as my swirling, sucking tongue explored her every hidden fold. Feeling her quiver against my touch stoked a wildfire inside of me. I had to tightly squeeze my cock to keep it in check. When she came all her muscles contracted. Her heels dug into the table so hard that it lifted her ass into a high arc. I followed the wave of her ecstasy, licking and sucking until she cried out for me to stop.

“Oh fuck…” Molly smiled draping her arm over her blushing face. “We’re not finished,” I declared. Peeling her arm off her face, I locked my fingers around her nipple and squeezed. Molly smiled deviously and slid her hand into my pants. I kissed her. I let her taste what had driven me so wild. She was panting when I pulled away. I could feel her heart racing through her wrist, which I had pinned to the table. “I guess not…” Her eyes widened as she ran her hand down my thick trunk. My cock was too long for her to reach the head from her angle. “Were you always this big?” “Scared?” “No,” Molly protested, her lips curled in a half smile. “It’s just been a little while.” “I’ll go slow.” I let my pants fall to my feet and stepped out of them. Then I realized something, and cursed to myself. “What is it?” I looked up at her, my lips pressed in a tight line. “I don’t have any fucking condoms.” Why would I? I sure as hell wasn’t expecting any of this and I wasn’t about to hook up with some random bar slut. “Well,” Molly said, a guilty look quickly spread across her face. She rolled off the table and grabbed her small purse, sliding her panties off as

well. A second later she had a condom out and unwrapped. “You dog!” I smiled, more relieved than I’d ever been. Molly shrugged, embarrassed, then unrolled the slick latex down the length of my rod-stiff cock. I was about to lead her back to the couch, but she stopped me. “I like the table.” Her adorable face crinkled to one side. “You, freak you.” I swept her up and kissed her some more. If nothing else I could never get tired of just kissing her. I laid her back down on the table and pressed my fat cock over her pussy. Her hanging legs immediately tightened as excitement rippled through her. I brushed the hair out of her face to get a better look at her beautiful dark eyes. The thought of owning every part of her sent a hungry shiver through me, my nerve endings vibrating with anticipation. Her eyes smiled, knowing the effect she had on me. She’d always had power over my heart. I grabbed her hips and slid them toward me. The table groaned angrily at the motion. She spread her knees wider and I rubbed a thumb against her soaking wet lips. My cock flexed and jumped at the sight her pussy spread and ready. My cock ached now, I slowly pushed my fat

head down her engorged clit and into her wet opening. She rolled her shoulders back and moaned loudly as I filled her up. Frenzied waves of lightening rocketed through both of us. This was finally happening! I slid a hand over her breast and squeezed as I gently thrust inside of her. She clamped a hand over mine and forced me to grip her tighter. Her nipples were hardened dusky pebbles. I lowered myself over her, overcome by the urge to feel her nubs across my tongue. I split her inner walls apart, letting them crush my cock as I buried myself in deep. My cock pulsed with every hot wet inch I pushed into her. Her breath fluttered when I flexed, my cock finally basing out. “Jesus,” Molly said once she caught her breath. Then I started fucking her. My brain melted, all I could see was her. It didn’t matter if my eyes were open or shut. Her tight soaked cunt crushed me as I slowly impaled her. Everything else in the room faded away. It was just the two of us and the long overdue joy of primal, sweaty love. I was a slave to her, and she to me. For a few hours on a lonely Thursday evening, everything was finally right in the world. We fucked slow, and gentle at first, then as our passion edged closer to peaking the intensity was

amped up. I flipped her over onto her stomach and she ground her ass into my hips. I noticed a small Black Chains MC tattoo on her lower back that was halfway through the process of being removed. My head started to drift to darker things when Molly screamed out my name. Immediately I was back in my body and out of my head. Hearing her sultry voice call for me and no one else took all my restraint not to explode my condom like a carnival balloon. This was heaven, and her body shattered every vivid fantasy of her I’d ever had. The wood whined and my balls slapped her ass with each of our impacts. My hips moved with machine-like rhythm and intensity. I was fully lost in the pleasure of her sweet, sweet pussy. I couldn't get enough of her body. “Yes!” Molly whimpered, and mashed her ass tightly against my hips. The little explosions that ran through her set me off too. We came together hard and as one. Our heartbeats and breathing fell in sync with one another. The adrenaline spike I felt started in her body, then coursed through mine. We were so close together, so in tune with each other that it felt like we were the same person. I’d never felt anything like it before. And then when it was all over we collapsed

onto the table, lying next to each other. We were filthy, naked and, for the first time in a long time, fully satisfied. I was jonesing for a cigarette, but looking over at Molly all sweaty, naked and exhausted… I think I found something more addictive than smokes. Some time later we’d cleaned up and found ourselves on the couch looking through old photos of us on her phone. We stayed naked save for her putting her panties back on and me finding a pair of clean boxers to wear. It was the most domestic thing I’d done in years, and it staggered me how normal it felt. It was like my arms were made just to hold her. “Are you alright?” I asked. Thoughts of the faded MC tattoo on her back buzzed around my head like an angry hornet on a hot day. Seeing her get slapped to the ground was its occasional sting. “Better than alright,” Molly still had sex in her voice. I kissed her, smiling. It was a perfect moment; her and I on the couch, our bodies intertwined, reminiscing about past experiences. I wished I could tattoo this image of her on the inside of my eyelids so I’d never forget even the tiniest detail. “I mean you and Jason.” I paused, watching the moment shatter with the mention of her ex husband’s name. “I don’t need the details.” I already felt enough like a hypocrite. “I just need to

know if he’s going to hurt you.” “Jason…” Molly sat up and leaned away from me. Without the warmth of her bare olive skin I felt cold. It had nothing to do with temperature; it felt like a part of me was being forcibly removed. I wasn’t ready to let her go yet. Molly adjusted her glasses and pulled the corner of her lips slightly to one side of her face. She looked pensive and a little sad. I hated seeing that on her. “He’d tried courting me for years after you disappeared, but I always turned him down. Then when Matt died in the car accident he was there for me when I needed someone.” Every word she said was a knife slicing across my skin, but I said nothing. I deserved to feel every ounce of her pain. Leaving might’ve been out of my control, but I should’ve come back so much earlier. “Jason was a good guy once. He really was. For over a year we were happy.” Molly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Happy enough anyways.” “What happened? Why did you leave him?” “It was that fucking club.” Her expression went from sadness to anger. “When he joined the Black Chains I was supportive. I thought it would be good for him to belong to a brotherhood, even if they were bikers. I even let them tattoo their stupid logo on my back. So stupid…”

“We don’t have to talk about this if—” I hated putting her through old pain. “No it’s fine. I—” Molly pushed her air out in one burst. “I need to talk to someone about this. I heard some of the other old ladies talking about what actually happened on the weekend long rides they went on. Finally I paid one of the younger girls to take pictures when I wasn’t around and it was all perfectly clear.” “He was cheating on you?” “That, and doing drugs. I think the worst part of it was all the lies. ‘My bike broke down; I need to spend the night.’ ‘Don’t wait up, Babe, I’ve gotta help with some club business.’ It just got real bad real quick.” “Why not go to the police? Get a restraining order or have him arrested?” “Who do you think is in the club with him?” “Shit…” “They’re not all bad guys,” Molly was quick to add. “Most of them are really decent in fact.” “But a brotherhood’s still a brotherhood.” I ran my hands over my head, smoothing my hair back. I’d gotten my answer. I was going to have to deal with Cannonball. “Hey,” I said, lightening the mood. “Dad’s having Richard and me over for dinner this Saturday. Having you there would definitely keep me sane.” “I don’t know.” Molly peeled her bottom lip

back, exposing some teeth. She looked a little apprehensive. “It’s been a long time. I can’t even remember the last time I was there.” “I remember. You let me get to second base,” I said mischievously. Molly smiled, and shoved me. “But seriously, I know he’d love to see you.” “I’ll think about it.” Molly crawled toward me and I grabbed her. I wanted to hold onto her and this moment for as long as possible, because if I knew one thing about the King family it was that that dinner was going to be a fucking nightmare.

RICHARD SEVENTEEN

“G

o ahead,” I said carefully, driving up my father’s long drive way. My cell was hooked up to the cars speakers with Bluetooth. Madison sat silently next to me. “It’s me,” Lucas said. “I want to call a truce for the night.” “A truce?” Hearing his voice put me a little on edge. Lucas was more vindictive than I was; there was no way he was going to let me get away with canceling his show. These past two weeks I’d kept my guard up and waited for a blow that never came. I had no intention of sinking to his level, especially at our father’s estate while he was sick. The skeptical side of me asked wondered if he’d even keep any bargain we made. “You play nice. I play nice. We smile, humor

the old man and part ways.” The audio was crisp enough to pick up notes of fatigue in his voice. Was he as exhausted with this war as I was? I’d never play my hand and ask him directly of course. The fight went out of me when I saw Gloria hurt. My mind lingered on that girl far more than it should have. I was excellent at putting my feelings in little boxes and discarding them. That was the essence of good business. So why couldn’t I do that with her? I glanced at Madison when we stopped near the valet. She was intently touching up her makeup in a small mirror she carried with her. She appeared not to be listening to our call, but I knew better. She’s a politician’s daughter with aspirations of following in her father’s footsteps, I reminded myself. Some battles were fought in the boardroom, while others were fought casually everywhere else. Necessary evils. Madison felt like the wrong train headed in the right direction. I took my phone out of a nook in the dashboard and hesitated. Was it me? Was I being paranoid? Madison was going to be the mother of my child I needed to start trusting her. I took the phone off speakerphone. The fact that I couldn’t trust her, made me worried about the man I was becoming. Was I always on my guard around Gloria? “Play nice, how?” I asked.

“Y’know when we were young and we used to pretend to be brothers?” Lucas said. I felt a stab of pain deep inside somewhere. For many years he was my best friend. We used to be extremely close. It truly was a shame it had come to this. How did we drift so far apart? “No fucking the other over,” Lucas continued. There was no sharpness to his voice. This wasn’t a threat of mutually assured destruction. It almost sounded like he was asking me, without asking me. “And no discussing the inheritance.” “That’s fair,” I sighed, suddenly feeling tired myself. “For Dad’s sake…” There was a long empty space at the end of the phone call where a thank you or a goodbye would’ve gone. Neither of us said anything, but it felt important that that space was even there. My door was opened for me by the valet and I in turn opened the door for Madison, then helped her out of the car. She wore a pale, blush, backless gown with jewel embellishments that accentuated her curves and even made them glow in certain light. Her golden hair was done up in a neat French twist, interwoven with white beaded accents. Her short train lightly swept the pavement, but was kept hovering about an inch from the ground by her tall stiletto heels when she stood up. Madison simply looked incredible.

“Ready, Darling?” She asked, confidently. “Not even a little,” I smiled, taking her arm, then led her inside. The house was fully staffed tonight and it had a warmth I hadn’t seen the last few times I visited. I’d have liked to see him every day but Dad abhorred appearing weak. Despite his sudden worldview change, some old habits died hard. A butler took our coats and led us to the sitting room, the fireplace was lit and classical music played softly in the background. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it?” Madison asked, noticing my smile. It was, but that wasn’t why I was smiling. I thought of Gloria on my arm and her changing the classical music to the thrashy, punk rock New York Dolls. She’d turn to me and say, “There, isn’t that way better?” “Richard, my boy!” Dad said, from behind me. When I turned around my heart sank. He rolled forward in an electric wheelchair. There was an IV stand integrated into it, so as to be as minimally intrusive as possible. Dad wore a fine tux, but his lap and legs were covered by a blanket. He looked scarily thin… There was a lot of effort put into tonight’s dinner to make things appear as normal as possible. Knowing how much effort was needed to keep up that illusion broke my heart.

“Hey there, young man.” I smiled weakly, trying to keep the worry and fear from my voice. I reached down and hugged him. “It’s good to see you, Dad.” I introduced Madison. “Pleasure, Miss.” He shook Madison’s hand, then pointed to the hospital band on his wrist. “Please don’t mind the bracelet. It’s so the doctors remember my blood type.” My eyes narrowed skeptically. “What blood type are you?” Madison asked. “Red,” he said with a wink, then let go of her hand. Madison laughed as if the joke was genuinely amusing. I knew it. I groaned, but seeing him maintain his corny sense of humor lifted the sense of dread I felt inside. Maybe it only looked worse than it was. It was a lie, I knew, but at least it was a comforting one. Shortly thereafter Lucas showed up with Molly and greeted my father. Molly’s dress was a modest, green, strapless gown. Her dark hair hung in layered waves about her shoulders. She looked as pretty as when those two had dated in high school, except now she was all grown up. The only thing that looked out of place was a charm bracelet she wore on her wrist. “Molly, you look radiant,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. While Molly’s back was turned Madison

looked the girl over with the critical stare of a hated rival, then like a light switch, turned on her practiced smile when I introduced her. There was no jealousy in Madison’s initial expression. She wasn’t the kind of girl that cared about that sort of thing. She’d even written an allowance for extramarital lovers into the proposal. No, Molly was simply some debris on Madison’s road to victory, which needed to be quietly and efficiently removed. I’d have to watch that. The last thing I wanted was for a girl like Molly to be hurt in any way. “Richard.” Lucas extended a stiff hand. Lucas had his dirty blond hair pulled back and his light beard neatly kempt. He wore most of an off-therack suit, missing only the tie. Despite the top button of his shirt being undone he’d cleaned up well. “Hello, Lucas,” We shook hands briskly, yet firmly. It wasn’t until I saw Lucas and Molly together that I realized he might actually win this competition. I chided myself for still thinking of Gloria. That raven-haired beauty had burrowed into my heart and weakened my resolve. I needed to get her out of my head if I had any chance of coming out on top. The battlefield may have changed, but this was still war. Not tonight, I reminded myself of the call we

had earlier. There’d be no bloodshed tonight. The next hour Lucas and I mostly avoided one another. We alternated between talking with Dad— who downplayed the severity of his health—and talking with the nurse, who tried her best to soften the blow of the harsh reality. The cancer was spreading as fast as they could kill it. Dad coughed a sharp raspy sound that dragged on far longer than anyone in the room was comfortable with. At best, Dad had a few months left to live. It didn’t matter who won. He’d never live long enough to see a grandchild. I glanced over at Lucas while he talked with the nurse. I watched him go through all the same emotions when he heard the news. Finally, he looked back at me, his eyes glossy and full of pain. We shared the same useless anger and sense of overwhelming futility. What the fuck was the point? When approached privately, Dad had outright refused to answer questions about the inheritance competition. “It’s how it needs to be,” was all he’d say, before changing the subject. It would’ve been one thing if he hated us and wanted us to suffer, but that was never the case. We might not have been as tightly knit as families you’d see on TV, but there was no denying that Lucas and I were loved. Why else would Dad have

adopted Lucas? He tried so hard to bring us together after Mom died, but by then the damage between Lucas and I was done. Why spend the twilight of his life undoing everything? Why rip the family even further apart with this damn competition? Despite Dad’s bad jokes it was apparent that the exertion of appearing as if nothing was wrong was taking its toll on the old man. He began slouching in his chair and had trouble following conversations. If he was a phone’s battery he’d be flashing red. The evening looked to be at its bleakest. I didn’t know if he was going to make it to dinner. Then, out of nowhere, a series of smooth notes were played on the grand piano in the next room over. There was no denying Molly was a little out of practice, at least at first. Or it might’ve been the piano that was rusty; it hadn’t felt the warm touch of skilled fingers since Mom died. That didn’t matter to Dad, his weathered old face brightened right up at the sound. The classical music was turned off to make way for the Chopin and Bach that Molly played. And like a great migration, we all made our way over to watch. Lucas leaned on the piano, propping himself up on his elbows and watched her play. It was the same thing he used to do whenever Mom asked her

to play. “Maggie…” Dad said, wheeling himself next to me. He patted me gently on my lower back, the music made him look ten years younger than a few minutes ago. His eyes were floating, every key stroke brought him a little closer to openly weeping. “She sounds just like your mother, doesn’t she?” “Yeah, Dad.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. In that moment I desperately wanted to tell him; “Everything’s going to be alright, don’t worry.” But I stayed silent. I was too afraid to hear the words out loud, knowing them to be just another happy lie… Dad had dried the tears that ran down his cheeks as Molly wrapped up the last of the half a dozen songs she could still remember. The chef entered, whispered something to Dad, then disappeared from the room. “Beautiful! Thank you, my dear.” Dad hugged Molly, whose light blush reddened her olive cheeks. “Maggie would’ve been so proud of you.” Molly smiled, fighting back tears of her own, and hugged him again. “Now,” he declared, charged back up by the music. “I don’t know about any of you, but that long drive down memory lane dropped me off in Hungary.” Lucas and I both groaned at the bad joke in perfect unison. “Dinner is served!”

LUCAS EIGHTEEN

I

shoved my mostly empty plate away, feeling ready to explode. Five helpings was one too many. Molly shot me an I-told-you-so look. She asked me if I was trying to set a world record around the forth heaping plate. I didn’t want to tell her I was casually trying to beat Richard…but that was only because he was casually trying to beat me. “You can look at me any way you want.” I raised both my arms and flexed. “Muscles like these don’t grow on trees.” Then I leaned in and proudly whispered, “After the workout we had earlier today I needed my protein.” I wasn’t sure who won the informal eating contest, but either way it was good to just be silly again. If it wasn’t for Richard’s date—the woman who looked like someone’s press secretary—it

would’ve felt like a real family dinner. Dinner was a holy time in our house while Mom was alive. Mom and Dad used to cook dinner and we were forced to clean the dishes. They said it built character to clean up after ourselves. I thought it was bullshit. What’s the point of making all that money if you can’t pay people to do stuff for you? They were right of course. Looking back it always seemed like they were right, we were just too young and spoiled to see that at the time. Like the good little boys we were, Richard and I started clearing the plates. It was only when I grabbed Dad’s that I saw how little he’d actually eaten. He’d apparently only been moving the food around as we all made strained, but pleasantenough conversation. “I had a big lunch,” Dad said, reassuringly. He saw that the lie didn’t ease the worried look on my face because he patted my arm and changed the subject. “Just load them into the dishwasher. I think you boys have mastered the fine art of washing dishes by now.” “I think I might need a refresher,” I gave him a half smile. “If it’s worth doing once…” “It’s worth doing a thousand times,” Richard said, breezing past us with full arms. Dad just laughed, having been beaten to finish his favorite phase. Dad began softly interrogating

Molly and Madison, asking them about their lives and how they met us. Richard and I escaped to the kitchen to wash dishes and wrap and put away leftovers. “You know I won, right?” Richard said with an easy grin. His jacket was off and sleeves were rolled up as he pulled plastic wrap over a casserole dish. I froze; warm tap water steadily ran over my hands and the cup I was washing. What did he mean “won?” Won won? Is the plastic anchorwoman in there actually pregnant? Then it dawned on me that I never even told Molly about the clause in the inheritance. I wasn’t intentionally keeping that from her. We just got back together; I wanted to make sure we were good first before I dropped something that heavy on her. “Hi Molly, I haven’t seen you in a decade.” “I’ve never stopped loving you.” “I need to get you pregnant ASAP.” In no universe do those three fucking sentences make it into the same paragraph. Hell, I couldn’t even imagine them in the same book. “I ate six,” Richard said, brimming with smugness. I exhaled hard and steadied myself. Thank, Christ! He wasn’t talking about the inheritance. “Bullshit, you did. A lone buttered roll doth not a plate maketh,” I did my best Shakespeare

impression. “My last plate piled high with salad.” “Salad? No.” He scoffed. “There weren’t any tomatoes, onions, carrots… Did you even have dressing?” He paused, trying to remember. “No jury in the country would call that a salad. Besides you didn’t even finish it.” We continued to argue the legality of produce for a lot longer than should’ve been possible. Eventually, without any clear winner, the argument fizzled away like it always used to. There wasn’t any mention of the elephant in the room that caused the massive rift between us. We kept everything surprisingly light. Standing here with my brother like this after so long was surreal. Nothing was forgiven. The truce was only for the night, but I started wondering if we could just talk this whole thing out like sensible adults; like brothers. “What happened to the black haired girl you left your party with?” I asked idly, drying my hands with a bright red hand towel. “It didn’t work out.” He paused, then continued as if he was reassuring himself rather than explaining anything to me. “Madison is a better fit, we have similar goals.” Why the fuck would you want a social chameleon like her? Surprisingly, I held my tongue. It wasn’t something I probably would’ve done yesterday. Nevertheless I didn’t like that woman

and it wasn’t just because she was with Richard. I didn’t like her fake smile or her precise laugh. I didn’t like the way I felt her eyes dissecting me for exploitable weakness while I wasn’t looking. Madison didn’t have strong opinions and she didn’t make waves. I could talk to her for days and have no fucking idea who she was. I didn’t like the thought of someone like that with my brother. “That’s a shame.” I threw the towel at him, which he caught easily. He proceeded to neatly fold it then put it away. “She looked like she was a free spirit. That would’ve been good for you. What was her name?” “Gloria,” he said, before I even finished the question. Her name was ready in his mind; too ready. I looked hard at him. Did he actually care for Gloria? Richard had the same look of longing in his eyes that I had when I was seriously missing Molly. Holy shit… He does care for her! He was only with Madison because of the inheritance. Gloria probably didn’t want kids and Madison… She seemed like the kind of person that wanted only whatever will get her ahead. Fuck. I actually felt sorry for the guy. I couldn’t remember Richard ever finding a girl he had a real connection with. He’d been with a lot of girls sure, but they were just flings, nothing serious.

And now he goes and falls in love just to throw it away so he can win a competition. All these years I thought he was the smart one… After that busted show at the Family Room, once the cops and EMTs cleared me to leave, I had a realization. I wasn’t going to win the bet. I wasn’t going to win because I knew I would never be happy with anyone else but Molly. I couldn’t just knock some girl up and hope for the best. If I didn’t have her then I didn’t have anything worth fighting for. “Hey, man,” I sighed. Against my better judgment, I decided to extend an olive branch. “We really haven’t talked about this whole inheritance thing.” “Wasn’t that why you called me earlier, so we wouldn’t discuss it?” “I just didn’t want to argue about it in front of Dad. He’s got a lot going on; he doesn’t need to deal with that shit too.” Richard crossed his arms and nodded gravely. “What about the inheritance?” “This whole thing is fucking crazy. Maybe we can talk this over and come up with another solution.” The sound of shattering glass rang out before Richard could answer. We immediately shelved the conversation and rushed back into the dining room.

Thoughts of Dad falling out of his chair or cutting himself, or a million other things raced through my mind. Fortunately it wasn’t Dad. He wasn’t in the room at all. He’d probably been taken by the nurse to the bathroom or to take medicine. Madison sat calmly in her chair, wearing an expression of slight embarrassment. It was the look someone had when they accidentally spoiled a surprise party on purpose. And Molly? Molly. Was. Pissed. Molly stepped over the broken wine glass at her feet and stormed over to me. “What happened? Is everything—” The words were slapped out of my mouth. “You fucking asshole!” Molly didn’t exactly scream the words, but her voice and pitch gradually rose to the point that if she said anything more it would be said at the top of her lungs. Molly tore off the bracelet I’d given her and dropped it like it burned her hand. “Molly…” “Y’know, this time I really thought it was going to be different. I actually thought you came back for me. How fucking stupid am I, huh?” Molly shoved me; the tears rolling down her cheeks ruined her mascara. With one look of utter betrayal, I felt my whole world crumbling apart like a sand castle under a

heavy boot. Oh, no… I waited too long. Why could I not stop fucking things up! “All of this was just to beat Richard?” Molly went to slap me again, but couldn’t muster the hatred through all that sadness. “Goddamn you, Luke.” When she left, I lurched forward as if she had a thread wrapped around my heart. Once she was far enough away, the imaginary line snapped taught and it ripped my heart right out of my chest. I was too stunned to move, to think, to breathe. After everything that happened, could it really end this way? “Luke, I…” Richard started, then stopped, not able to find the words he was looking for. The sound of his voice was like a cheese grater on my soul. I turned to face my half brother with eyes on fire. I mirrored Molly’s feelings of betrayal and anger. I was a fool for not telling her the truth when I had the chance, but I was a bigger fool for trusting Richard not to fuck me over when he had the chance. “We had a truce, you mother fucker!” I didn’t even realize I hit him until he was bleeding on the floor. He wasn’t knocked out or anything. I cocked my fist to hit him again but he didn’t raise his arms in defense. Why would he?

It wouldn’t matter if I beat him to a pulp. He was a ruthless, cutthroat business man and he’d already got what he wanted. He’d already won. “For a second there…” I said, unclenching my hands and letting my arms lower to my sides. “I almost thought you were my brother.” I left the happy couple to their hollow victory and chased after Molly. She’d have already asked one of the valets to drive her home, but I had to at least try to reach her. Try to apologize. Anything! “What?” I heard Madison ask in her reptilian voice right before I rounded the corner that would take me out of the house. “You wanted to win, didn’t you?”

RICHARD NINETEEN

I

t was barely daybreak and Black Rocket Records was busier than I’d ever seen, but not with customers, although they were here too. Half the store bustled about urgently with renovations. Was this all for that band’s album release concert? The executive side of me quickly calculated the cost of the manpower, the materials and the temporary loss of revenue due to the construction. This wasn’t something a small store could afford easily. A pit formed in my stomach. If this concert didn’t go exactly as planned the Rocket might not be able to make its next bank payment. That’s when bad things started happening. I spotted Gloria immediately. She was barking orders at half a dozen workers nearly twice her

size. Gloria wore a black, ragged top t-shirt and ripped jeans. She was sweaty from coordinating, moving things and also taking care of customers that were brave enough to enter. Where was Judy in all this? I walked in, idly rubbing my silver cufflinks. The last few weeks had been an avalanche of mistakes, and I was tumbling hard down the wrong path. I canceled my engagement with Madison the night of the dinner. She unsurprisingly threatened legal action for a breach of our agreement. Fortunately nothing was signed yet so she didn’t have a leg to stand on. In a lot of ways, walking into that coffee shop felt like I was back at square one. I had just arrived to town with no attachments and was looking to accomplish a goal. That goal had changed though. It wasn’t about the inheritance anymore. It was about Gloria. This time I was going to do it all the right way. “Look what the cat dragged in.” Gloria wiped the sweat from her eyes with the back of her arm. Her shock of black hair was both matted to the side of her face and also stuck up at random angles. “Must’ve been a big cat,” I replied, with a half smirk. The joke went over like lead balloon. Gloria wasn’t pleased to see me. “I don’t have time for games.” She swept a

hand at the men working on the stage and rearranging the store to fit the coming crowd. “There’s still a lot of shit that needs to be done before Friday.” I switched to plan B. “I was going to bring flowers…” I held up the bottle of fine whiskey, I’d brought for her. It was a bottle of Glenlivet vintage nineteen-sixty-four. Only a hundred bottles were ever produced. It arrived from Ireland this morning. “But I figured this was more your speed.” “Yeah, thanks,” Gloria said, unimpressed. She lifted a cardboard box full of extension cords and walked toward the stage. “Leave it behind the bar.” I frowned, setting the liquor on the floor and snatched the box out of her arms. Gloria sighed, realizing that I wasn’t going to let her carry it while I was standing here, then pointed to the stage. One of the workers grabbed the box when I got close. “Let me help.” I set the bottle of expensive whiskey on the shelf beneath the cash register. Walking back to her, I took off my jacket off and tossed it on a nearby chair. “Looks like you could use an extra hand.” “I don’t want you to wreck your thousand dollar loafers,” she smiled bitterly and without humor. Her icy tone stopped me from rolling up my second sleeve. “Where’s Judy?” I asked, keeping the

conversation light. I was trying to create the right atmosphere for an apology. It didn’t matter how sorry I was, if she wasn’t ready to hear it, then it would just fall on deaf ears. “Probably draining the rest of our fucking bank account to pay for all this,” Gloria muttered under her breath. Then in a louder voice she said, “I don’t know. Not here. Which is exactly where you should be.” “Wait.” I gritted my teeth; this wasn’t how I anticipated this meeting would go. “About that letter—” “That letter was awfully clear. You don’t want to be with me. I get it. I’m sure you and Business Barbie will make a great couple.” Gloria left to help a customer. She poured the girl a coffee, glanced over at me, then asked to see the girl’s ID. Confused, the college girl riffled through her satchel and eventually produced a driver’s license. Gloria carefully read it, then gifted the girl a twenty-fivethousand dollar bottle of liquor. The girl thanked Gloria with a wide, but still confused smile, then went off to the self service station. She turned back toward me with a raised eyebrow and a look that said, you can’t buy my affection. Gloria was serving a small line of customers when I walked over. I wondered how she was going

to spite me, now that she was out of gifts to give away. In between pouring cups of coffee and taking payment from people, she asked me, “Can’t you see that I’m busy?” “Extremely so.” “So tell me, Richard…” She slapped the cup down on the glass counter, forcing the customer back a step to avid hot splashing liquid. Gloria turned to me with a mix of anger and hurt floating in her stormy gray eyes. “What is it you want from me?” I finally understood how Lucas felt when he’d lost Molly. I ran over this conversation in my head hundreds of times. I broke it down into sections, planned it, and practiced it. Realizing I wasn’t going to get the right atmosphere for it, I went for my apology anyways. All my practiced lines suddenly felt canned and artificial. They all came from the heart, but they weren’t as passionate they needed to be. I let them dissolve in my mind and went with the only thing that actually felt honest. “I’m sorry.” Gloria’s stone expression softened at the sincerity in my words, but that only lasted for a moment. Her resolve hardened immediately. “I don’t care,” she said. “I want you to go.” It was hard for me to wrap my head around her

words. They were so… final. There wasn’t room for negotiation or a better offer. Suddenly it hit me. For the first time in my life I’d committed myself to something and I failed. That pit in my stomach became a wide chasm. I wasn’t going to win this one. I wasn’t going to win her. Defeated, I walked out of Black Rocket Records. I hadn’t even bothered to grab my jacket. It didn’t matter. “Sir?” James, my driver, asked seeing the disappointment the bore heavy lines on my face. He shook his head opening the car door for me then corrected himself, “Is everything all right, Richard?” It was a surprise he remembered our earlier conversations about titles and names. I hadn’t requested his services since the day he first brought me here. I didn’t know what to tell him, so I didn’t tell him anything. No, everything was not all right. For a long time we simply idled in the car, parked by the side of the road. He’d asked me where I wanted to go, but again I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t the kind of man that was ever racked by indecision or hesitation. Whether it was the right call or even occasionally the wrong call, I’d always been able to make it quickly and decisively. “Take me to my jet,” I said at length. “I’m done

with Caldwell Hope.” “Would you like anything from your apartment packed for you?” “No,” I said gravely. The full weight of my failure in all things was pushing me into the backseat. Soon I’d disappear into the folds of leather and never be seen again. “There’s nothing left for me here.” I’d failed Gloria. I’d failed my father. I’d even found a way to fail Lucas. So what? Dad’s voice said in the back of my mind. I imagined his voice shrugging indifferently somehow. It was only the last failure that mattered; the one that stopped you from trying again. I dwelled on those words as we drove in silence. I thought about the whole cryptic conversation we had that first day as we overlooked the town. We talked for such a long time yet so much went unsaid. My ringing phone jolted me from memory. “Richard speaking,” I said, distractedly. Part of me was still sitting on the bench behind my father’s estate, listening to him talk. “Hi Richard. This is Jackie, your father’s nurse. I’m afraid I have some terrible news—” My heart sank like a stone in a pond. “I’ll be right there,” I said. I knew what she was

going to tell me, but I didn’t want her to say the awful, final words out loud. Your father is dead.

LUCAS TWENTY

“L

ucas?” a familiar voice in the hallway of my apartment called out. I laid on the floor near the couch, plucking at my guitar. Through the haze of dead beer, every once in a while I could smell Molly’s perfume. It racked me with pain to know what I’d lost. Every time one of those dark thoughts threatened to break me I played faster and yelled out the lyrics I had. The song still wasn’t done. Why couldn’t I finish this fucking song?! I’d been at it for days now and I couldn’t figure the damn thing out! Molly’s song needed another verse and an outro, but every time I wrote one it fucked with something else! It was driving me crazy. I didn’t sleep… I didn’t eat… I just wrote and played. Writer’s block had crippled me after the dinner at my father’s place. I

tried all week to explain, but Molly wouldn’t see me or return my calls. After that I locked myself in this room and threw away the key. That’s why I needed to finish her song. I knew —knew— if I could figure it out then everything between us would work out too. It had to… “Lucas,” the man repeated. “Are you home?” The poet in me poured over all the other meanings of that phrase. “Luke’s not home.” Caldwell Hope wasn’t my home anymore. It’s just another place I used to live. “Oh good, you’re here.” Richard stepped over the cardboard cases long since emptied of beer. He wore a fine charcoal suit and had a tray of food in his hands. After what he did, he was the last person I wanted to see. “No one invited you!” I threw the nearest thing I could reach. He didn’t even have to dodge; the empty beer bottle flew wildly off course and shattered against a wall nowhere near him. “No one mopes quite like a rock star.” Richard cleared a space on the kitchen counter and put the food down. “The fuck do you want, Dick?” “I got a call from management. They were worried that you hadn’t been eating and some of the guests have been complaining about loud

crashes in the middle of the night.” “No one trashes a hotel room like a rock star either.” I raised my warm bottle of beer, then took a sip “You’re already drinking?” Richard at least tried to mask his disapproval this time, although I could still hear it in his voice. “It’s eight in the morning.” “Eight AM to you maybe.” I finished the bottle, laid it on its side, then rolled it away. Time didn’t matter to me. I had all the time in the world to fuck up now. “How’d you even get in?” “I told you, management called me over. They probably thought you were dead and didn’t want to be the ones to stumble across your body.” “Well. I’m alive.” I spread my arms out. “Now get the fuck out.” Richard sighed, unbuttoning his jacket so he could sit in a chair easily. “I’m not here just for that.” “Dad’s dead, isn’t he?” The thought sobered me up immediately. Richard looked down and said nothing. That’s when I noticed his red rimmed eyes. He didn’t need to answer, I knew it was true. “When?” Nausea bubbled up my throat. “A few hours ago. He just never woke up.” I didn’t know if it was from the beer or what, but I wasn’t as destroyed as I thought I’d be

hearing the news. I’d spent so much time pushing thoughts of his health out of my head that I had never prepared myself for when it actually happened. I felt numb. “I’ll go get changed.” I got up and left the room. I even made it all the way to the bathroom before I vomited my guts out into the toilet. It was mostly booze and it smelled awful. I took a long shower; waiting for the tears to come. They never did. The fact that he wasn’t my biological parent didn’t mean a damn thing to me. He was my real father and I loved him. That’s what bothered me the most. Was I so broken that I couldn’t even cry for the death of a loved one?

LUCAS TWENTY ONE

T

he rest of the day was a painful circus of bullshit. Richard and I got some food to help me sober up, then started making the arrangements. I quickly discovered that I hated the whole system of taking care of a dead family member. Between the medical examiner, the funeral director, getting the death certificate and planning the wake, there was no time to grieve. How did they expect anyone to do all this? It was like trying to plan a birthday party after just getting stabbed in the heart. The whole thing was fucking insane! At the end of the day—that felt like a month— Richard and I drank beers in Dad’s garage. He sat in the Aston Martin and I sat next to him in the nineteen-sixty-six Shelby Cobra. The tops were

down in each car making it easy to talk to one another. “What a fucking zoo,” Richard said, popping the top on a cold beer. I did a double take at him. Richard never swore. That polished, professional exterior was finally breaking down enough that someone might mistake him for an actual person. “Is what’s her face coming to the funeral?” We decided to keep the wake small and private. Family was flying in from all over the world. The rest of the week was going to be hell. Richard gave me a questioning look that needed clarification. “Uh... Madeline? You know the one who looked like the blonde Terminator robot from that movie.” “Madison.” Richard chuckled. “No, she’s long gone.” “Good. I didn’t like her. You really aught to call the dark-haired girl though, you smiled more while you were with her.” “So people tell me…” He blew out his air, shaking his head, then took another sip. “That’s over too. You talk to Molly?” “She won’t see me either.” I pressed the perspiring can into my forehead, letting the condensation cool my skin. It was a balmy, awful night and I still felt like shit from the week long bender. “We’re really bad at this whole falling in love thing.”

“Amen to that.” Richard tipped his beer slightly in a mock toast. “I didn’t knock anyone up.” I turned to him and asked, “You?” “Nope. I have no idea what’s going to happen to his inheritance now that he’s gone. My lawyers are looking over the will, but with the way he was acting these past few months it’s anyone’s guess.” “If there’s a historical society of puns and bad jokes—” I said flippantly. “He probably donated it all to them.” Richard laughed. We reminisced about old funny memories involving our parents and even some of the hard ones. Most of it was positive though, and talking to Richard felt good. For the first time in a long time, we were completely on equal footing. We were two parentless children sharing our loss with one another. It was a very brotherly thing to do. Some time passed, and a familiar buzzed feeling washed over me. It helped me draw up the courage to ask something I never thought I would. “Why did you hate me so much?” “I never hated you, Lucas. If anything I was jealous.” “Jealous?” I chuckled, getting caught by surprise. “What the fuck for? I’m not even biologically a King.”

“That never mattered to me. We were close long before either of us knew about your adoption. I was jealous at how easily you figured things out.” “You’re crazy. You got way better grades than me.” “That’s only because you didn’t try. Remember that catapult I made for science class?” “The one that exploded?” I laughed, remembering the look on his teacher’s face when it hurled the rubber band ball in the opposite direction, then fell apart like in an old cartoon. “Yup. Once we found all the pieces, you had that thing reassembled in no time. When we tried it again, it doubled the distance of any other catapult. I still have the first place ribbon somewhere. “My point is had you just focused your natural talents you’d have been a force to be reckoned with. You could’ve done great things for the family company.” “I always loved the family, even during the dark times when I had to go live with the Morenas. I just couldn’t do the grad school and college thing, man. My passion wasn’t in any of it. I wasn’t cut out for a life of business.” “That’s why you didn’t accept the partnership offer at my company when you left the Morenas.” It slowly started to dawn on him. “Dad thought the deal had voided years earlier, so that day they came knocking took us all by surprise.”

“I should’ve handled that better, I’m sorry.” I said, finally seeing how poorly I handled the whole situation back in the day. I basically told him to go fuck himself. “I didn’t mean to blow you off like that. I was still all fucked up from the deal dad made to adopt me. I guess I wasn’t feeling much like a part of the family at the time.” “You were the golden son; smart, ruthless and always in a rush. You followed perfectly in Dad’s footsteps; the quintessential high-powered corporate executive. You were exactly what our father wanted an ideal son to be.” My voice cracked at several parts, the words I said raked the bottom of my very soul. I usually wore my emotions on my sleeve, but this shit was all buried down deep. In an already emotional day, this stuff was hard to get out. “I was suddenly the one that didn’t fit in,” I finished, looking away. Facing any one after admitting all that was tough, let alone the man I hated for years. Richard got out of his car and sat next to me in the Shelby. He opened a beer and gave it to me. “It didn’t matter who your real father was, as far as we were all concerned you were always one of us.” Richard let the words float in the air for a long while. What did I say to that? With the news of what happened to Dad and

the shit show that was literally everything else in my life, I honestly didn’t know how to feel. After I found out I was adopted I put up these barriers between me and the rest of the family. It was like I was keeping them all at arms reach so I wouldn’t get hurt again. “For as much of a pain in the ass as you are, you’re always going to be my little brother.” Richard put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me. I never dreamed Richard and I would have a heart-to-heart, we were just so different… I felt so heavy yet so light at the same time. Even through the sadness surrounding my Dad’s death, a massive burden had been lifted. I had my brother back. I didn’t have to keep it together any longer. For several long minutes the tough, in-charge King brothers wept like only those in mourning can. We lowered our guards and let ourselves openly cope with not only the grief of loss, but also the realization that we were siblings that didn’t have to hate each other. We could choose a different path. “We’ve been acting like real assholes, huh?” I was so tired of fucking things up and making things worse all the time. There had to be a way to fix things. “It’s the King way after all. If you ignore your problems they’ll probably go away.”

“Or they’ll blow up in your fucking face,” I said. The sudden exhaustion of redlining these past few days hit me like a speeding train. I didn’t know how much bonding I had left in me before I just passed out. I wouldn’t leave just yet, this was all too important. “I don’t know why dad put that clause in the inheritance, but he was right about one thing,” I said. “What’s that?” “He said we’d never be able to find better women in the world than the ones here.” “There are two women out there we can’t live without.” Richard nodded thoughtfully, then his eyes narrowed dangerously. I knew right away that an idea just popped into his head when he started rubbing his cufflinks. It was a habit he never out grew. “I’ve got a new proposition for you.” I looked at him sideways. “Another competition?” That’s just what we needed… “No,” he said, waving his beer back and forth, shunning the idea. “Look where that’s gotten us. I propose we work together and actually help each other.” “What about the inheritance?” This didn’t seem like him at all. It was the opposite of pragmatism. Help the other get all the money? “We don’t even know if there is an inheritance

anymore.” He looked at me with hard blue eyes, that were so similar to my own it was almost like looking into a mirror. “Can you honestly tell me that money is more important to you than getting Molly back?” There was any doubt in my mind. Molly was more important to me than all the money this world had to offer. “What do you have in mind?”

RICHARD TWENTY TWO

T

he school was brighter than I’d expected. I walked through the halls of Matt Baker Elementary, hands in my pockets, admiring how much work had been done. Lucas and I were home schooled until about sixth grade, then both of us in turn were sent off to best private school in the area. I’d never met Molly’s brother, Matthew Baker. Lucas and Molly were about three years younger than I was and they were older than Matt by a few years. By all accounts he was growing into a good man when his life was tragically cut short by a drunk driver. Both Molly and Matt had gone to Classical when they were children, so it was nice to see him memorialized in this way. I’d only ever been here once, back when it was called Classical. Large, cartoon images of brass

instruments adorned the wall then. They, like everything else in the aging school, were timeworn, faded and in desperate need of replacing. Now the halls were painted with superheroes like Batman and Wonder Woman; they stood next to Aladdin, Elsa and other Disney characters. Peering into the classrooms, I could see they were lined with vivid colors and were inviting. Everything was new and safe; all the computers were state-of-the-art. This was the best possible version of what this school could’ve been. Dad had spoken in front of the graduating class one year and I tagged along. He talked about the virtue of working hard and how important it was to be armed with knowledge. I could only remember one line of his speech. “The real world is a series of locked doors,” he’d said. “School, and places like it, is where you find the keys.” It darkened my heart to think about how much of his wisdom I’d forgotten over the years. It had been several days since the funeral. It was formal, bleak ordeal. It seemed like half the town had shown up at one point or another. Many people flew in from all over to pay their respects. There were speeches and songs; the mayor even named the intersection of corner of Main Street and Marshall Long Avenue after him and Mom in honor of where they met.

The whole thing was intimate, sad and wonderful all at the same time. Dad was many things to many people. I was just glad it’s over. Things had gotten far more emotional than I was comfortable dealing with.. The bell rang out over the intercom signifying the end of the school day; it was followed by a friendly female voice wishing everyone a nice afternoon and to remember to have their permission slips signed for the upcoming field trips. Classroom doors swung open like a dam giving way, and a flood of children cascaded into the halls around me. The sereneness of the casual walk had been shattered by screaming, laughing and even some singing. Walking through the bright, oblivious elementary school halls was a nice change of pace from the sorrow-filled clouds that hung over my interactions with adults that knew him. The children here didn’t know or care about my father, they were too busy living and playing. I reached the open wood and glass doors of my destination. “Everything you’re looking for,” read the beautifully carved sign above the library’s entrance. I hoped the sign was right. “Hello?” I asked looking around the expansive library. It didn’t just have books, it had graphic

novels, an extensive computer lab and even a small nook to take naps or read on the plush floor. It was larger than any other library of its kind and it was far more inviting. If I were a kid, this would be where I spent all my free time. “Just a moment please.” Molly returned to the check-in desk with an armful of abandoned books that needed to get returned to their appropriate shelves. “Richard, hi,” she said, with surprised eyes. “How did you even get in…” Molly’s brown hair was drawn into a tight ponytail. She wore black dress pants, a layered, sleeveless, violet blouse and bright blue glasses. The afternoon light reveled the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. I pressed my lips together, then shrugged in a modest gesture. “Right. You’re a King,” Molly exhaled in a short, knowing burst, a crease in her lips made it resemble a smile. “Is there anywhere you can’t go in this town?” “They still won’t let me into the women's roller derby locker room.” I smiled. “Somehow I’m not so sure that’s true.” Molly shook her head, then gave me a big hug. Afterward, a look of worry raised her eyebrows. “I’m so sorry about your father. From what I remember of him, he was a great guy. How are you holding up?” Molly had briefly appeared at the funeral to

show her respects to the family. She’d even broken down a little when she hugged Lucas. For as much time as Molly spent at the house, she never really got to know my dad because he was always away on work. Molly and my mom were much closer. She took mom’s death much harder. “Thanks. We’re getting by. It’s a lot to adjust to, of course.” I kept the conversation light. Doom and gloom wasn’t why I was here. “He’s not in any pain anymore. I hope Heaven has a nice golf course. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.” “Nope, just cleaning up the mess.” Molly patted the small stack of books. “Story of my life.” Molly’s tone told me she wasn’t just talking about the children of Matt Baker Elementary. Lucas was still fresh in her mind. “I came here to apologize to you for what happened at dinner. I wanted to say something at the funeral, but it wasn’t a good time.” “What do you have to apologize for?” Molly looked confused and even a little amused. While she was dating Lucas, Molly was always at the house. I joked with her that she’d been adopted into the family and now it was weird that she was fooling around with one of her siblings. She and I became friends and I eventually saw her as something of a kid sister. “Bringing Madison was a mistake.” I leaned

against the desk and crossed my arms. “She didn’t know what she was talking about. She saw a moment to deliver a cutting blow to the opposition and took it.” “Opposition? Jesus… Where did you find that woman?” Molly blew her air out and waited for a reply that I wasn’t going to give. It didn’t matter where I found her, all of that was over now. “What happened to Gloria? Everyone that saw you two together thought you were a perfect match.” “In true King fashion, I screwed that whole thing up.” I shook my head slowly, focusing on the few trees visible through a nearby window. Why did thinking about that silly girl hurt so damn bad? “Richard…” Molly studied the pain I tried unsuccessfully to hide from my face. “You’re in love, aren’t you?” “I’m not sure I even know what that means.” I still couldn’t look at her. If I did she’d see all my weakness laid bare, and much like my father, I hated when other people saw me like that. “Besides it doesn’t matter. I’ve been to enough contract negotiations to know when a deal was going south.” Molly chuckled. “You are the dumbest smart person I know, you know that?” I blinked a few times to clear my mind and my heart, only then was I able to look at her directly. “How do you mean?” “I know Gloria. We went to high school

together. She’s not a boardroom or a committee or,” Molly rolled her hand to help her find the words she was looking for. “Or rival corporation. Gloria is a living, breathing, crazy human being, like the rest of us. “It’s that obvious, huh?” I smiled weakly. “Oh yeah,” Molly laughed. “I know you’ve never fallen in love before, Richard, because you wear it on your face like a mask.” “I have to work on that.” “Love isn’t a skill you can train. You can’t go to seminars and get better at it.” Molly was full on in teacher mode. “I’m going to have to. I screwed it up, Molly. Gloria never wants to ever see me again.” I sat in a chair that was a slightly too small for me. Now I fully felt like I was a little kid again. “Alright, answer me this.” Molly said with a smirk. “Was she pissed at you last time she saw you? “Very.” I thought about the lucky, oblivious, college girl that now has a bottle of Glenlivet. “Then she still cares about you.” Molly picked up on blatant look of confusion. “You were on her mind enough to be angry, dummy. If she didn’t care about you, then seeing you again would’ve annoyed her, maybe. The fact that she was so angry at you means that there’s still hope, if you want it. I did. This kind of yearning was a foreign

feeling for me. I wanted Gloria more than anything. “OK,” I said, standing back up. “Be my consultant. I tried getting her a gift. Nothing as cliché as flowers, it was something I actually knew she’d like.” “It’s not enough to truly know her anymore, now you need to show her that you deserve her.” “What do I do?” There was a subtlety to this, an art form I was extremely unfamiliar with. Getting women into bed with me was second nature. Pillow talk was a language I spoke fluidly. This though, keeping a woman I couldn’t live without was more difficult than anything I’d ever known. “I don’t know.” Molly scrunched her mouth to the side of her face. She put a hand on my shoulder. “At this point it might take a really big gesture. Whatever you do though, don’t stop fighting for her.” How did this happen? I came here to repair Molly’s relationship with Lucas; it feels like it’s the other way around. I pinched my cool metal cufflinks between my thumb and forefinger. A new resolve hardened within me. Molly was right; I cared too much for Gloria to let her go now. “You give good advice for someone who doesn’t take any of it.” I was glad for all Molly’s help, but that wasn’t why I came. What happened

at that dinner was my fault. I needed to be the one to make it right. “Please don’t…” Sadness crept into Molly’s face. I didn’t want to hurt her, but there were things that had to be said. “Dad’s will, the competition, I know how bad all of it sounds,” I snatched up a metal apple paperweight off the desk and passed it back and forth between my hands. “I’ve come to realize there’s more to it than a dying man’s fever dream. It’s not about getting a woman pregnant. That is a big part of it, but that’s not the spirit of what Dad was trying to do.” “Honestly?” Molly suddenly looked tired. “I don’t care what the spirit of the agreement was. I just can’t do it any more. I’ve spent half my life waiting for Luke to do the right thing. I’m done waiting.” My teeth clenched and unclenched as I debated breaking an old promise. It was an important secret to keep at the time, but that time had past. There was something Molly needed to know. “No one knows this…” I put the apple down where I found it. This wasn’t news you could deliver while idly holding something. “Lucas paid for all the school’s renovations. I think it cost him everything he made off his albums. The only request he had was that they name the school after Matt.”

Molly furrowed her eyes and walked to the window. She watched the last of the buses pull away to drop off their precious cargo. For a long time she didn’t say anything. “Whenever I asked about the donor I was told that it was ‘a friend of the Bakers.' I wanted to thank them, but no one seemed to know any more.” “Lucas wanted it to be anonymous so it wouldn’t take anything away from your brother. I’m only telling you because I think it’s important you know how much he cares for you. Lucas loves you, Molly. He loves you more than I’ve ever seen one person love another.” The dull roar of a motorcycle pulled into the semicircle driveway the buses had left from. Lucas, I thought. He’ll never give that damn bike up. It’s as much a part of him as his guitar. Then I heard several more bikes pull in. “It’s not about love…” Molly said distantly. I walked to the middle of the room and saw what she was looking at. Four men put their kickstands down in a no parking area. They all wore black leather vests with patches on them. They were some kind of biker gang. “What are they doing at an elementary school?” “They’re here for me?” Molly said. There was something in her voice. It wasn’t fear, it was resignation. It had an air of inevitability to it.

“Like hell they are.” Molly was like the sister I never had, there was no way I was going to let anything bad happen to her while I was around. “That right there.” Molly flashed a small grin at my protectiveness. “Find a way to show that to Gloria and she’ll love you till the end of time.” “Molly—” “It’s OK.” Her smile faded as she grabbed her purse. “The one in the middle with the beard is my husband. I called him.” “Husband?” My eyes opened wide enough to fall out of my head. I didn’t know she was married. That didn’t make any sense; Molly was never the cheating type. “Does Lucas know?” “Yeah, they actually met briefly.” There was a twinkle in her eyes when she said that. Something must have happened and I was willing to bet it wasn’t good. “Jason and I are separated. It’s complicated.” “You weren’t seeing him while you were with Lucas, were you?” “No! Of course not. I’m not even seeing him now. We’re just going to talk. Jason wants to make amends for…everything that happened.” I had such a bad feeling about all of this. Molly was going to ride off with a biker gang? It felt like I was trying to row up a waterfall. Everything was falling apart. I was hoping that if I could at least help Molly and Lucas get back together maybe all

of this hardship would be worth something. “I don’t know that guy, Molly.” I stepped between her and the doors leading out of the library. “But I promise no one will ever love you like Lucas does.” “And I’ll always love Luke more than anything,” Molly smiled wistfully. “But I can’t trust him to be there when I need him. I feel awful about saying all this, especially after everything with your dad…” Molly took a moment out of respect before continuing. “Jason made mistakes, some worse than others, but he was always there. I might not be in love, but at the end of the day I know I won’t wind up alone with a broken heart. “Better the devil you know…” “That is the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever heard.” I couldn’t hide my frustration. “Jason might be the devil you know, but that still makes him a devil.” Molly smiled at me knowing I wouldn’t understand, then crushed me in a great, big hug. “Goodbye, Richard.”

LUCAS TWENTY THREE

N

ot him. With white knuckles I twisted the throttle on my bike and sped toward the fringe of town. I dangerously weaved in and out of traffic. On the best of days, the speed I was riding was borderline suicidal. The sun had just dipped below the mountains, but most people didn’t have their headlights on yet. There was enough light for me to ride, but not enough for me to be seen easily. It was the worst time for a biker to be on the road. That’s fine. One way or another, I wasn’t planning to be on the road for long. I had a woman to claim. Not him. It was a miracle no cops saw me. Even if they had I doubted I’d have pulled over. I didn’t give a

shit about the speed limit. Not now. Not when Molly was back at that MC clubhouse with that scumbag. Richard had just arrived when I pulled into the clubhouse parking lot. He must have already been on the road when he called to let me know that his talk with Molly hadn’t gone well. He tried to talk me out of doing anything rash while on the phone, but the second he uttered Jason’s name I lost it. I hung up and raced over as fast as I could. There was only one thing on my mind. Not him. It was one thing to for her to leave me. If she needed time and space to heal and get her life back together I could respect that. I would wait for her as long as I had to, but I refused to let her go back to a piece of shit who hit her. I parked my bike a ways down the sidewalk and hoofed it up to the front entrance, which was lined with nearly thirty bikes. Full house tonight. Whatever. Bring them on. I didn’t care about anything else, but finding Molly and kicking the shit out of Jason. “Wait a damn minute!” Richard shouted from the other side of the road as he got out of his Jaguar. He really hadn’t had time to plan for this or else he’d have switched to a different car before coming over to this side of the tracks.

“I can’t,” I said, not slowing down. “I’m done waiting.” “God damn it, Lucas. Use your head!” Richard stood in front of me, trying to block my way. “If you walk in there and start a war, you’re not coming back out in anything but a stretcher. Just wait until tomorrow and talk to her when she’s not surrounded by angry bikers.” I stopped, but not because I had any intention of leaving. Richard wore his dark three-piece suit and vest. He was clean shaven, his hair freshly cut and styled. He was a large guy, a little taller than me, and had a wall of gym-made muscles. For as big as he was it was obvious he didn’t belong here. This was a world of bar fights, knives, and gangs. It was rough, unforgiving and occasionally life altering. This was a place for guys who looked like me; long hair, beards, jeans, t-shirts and tattoos. I might’ve been a rock start back in the day, but not any more. This was my world now. “He hit her, Richard. Nothing’s going to stop me from walking in there.” Richard pulled out his cell phone. “Let me at least call the police.” “For what?” I put a hand over it, blocking the call. Molly didn’t report the assault when it

happened. She didn’t even have a bruise any more. “They haven’t broken the law yet, and you said she went of her own free will. “Lucas…” “I appreciate the concern, I do, but I have to do this.” I clasped a hand on Richard’s shoulder, then I stepped past him toward the door. “Go home, big brother. I don’t want you getting hurt too.” I shoved the door open roughly, announcing to everyone inside I was here and I wasn’t hiding. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but I did know she was about to see what kind of man Jason really was. The bar looked no different than a hundred other dive bars I’d been to. There were tables and chairs strewn about, but most people hung out at the bar or played pool. The room was smoky with dark windows and had flags, posters and other biker memorabilia all over the walls. It wasn’t just filled with bikers either, there were hang-a-rounds, ol’ ladies and friends of the club that didn’t wear the uniformed black patched vest. I’d been in enough biker bars across the country to know this was on the tamer side. Granted that was like saying it was a friendlier wolves den. There might not have been onepercenter outlaws, but it was still a room full of larger angry men who I knew for a fact were armed.

And it was still very clear I wasn’t welcome. The classic rock music droned on but the conversations in the room started dying out one by one as all eyes eventually turned to me. I scanned the sea of leather and denim for Molly. She sat in the back of the room drinking a beer; there was a look of disheartened resignation on her face. It told the world this was the best she was likely to do, and that she had accepted her sad fate. I could only imagine what he said to convince her that this was where she belonged; down in the mud with him. It made me furious and sad. “Listen, Pal—” A younger member who hadn’t got his full patch yet walked up to me, and crossed his arms to look tough. “Fuck off, prospect. I’m not here for you.” I brushed past the kid and started walking toward Molly. This is the time, I thought. Molly needs me. It’s time to fight for the woman I love and God help whoever gets in my way. “Hey!” The prospect shouted after me, before his attention was pulled back to the opening door. “I’m with him,” My brother said, pushing his way past the leather-clad human speed bump. Hearing Richard’s voice made me smile and bolstered my resolve. Having him by my side

definitely helped keep me focused when all the bikers in the room got off their stools or chairs and surrounded us. “Who the fuck do you think you are walking in here like this?” Jason stood up from his shot at the pool table, but instead of putting the stick down, he gripped it tighter. Jason was only a little older than me and already had salt and pepper in his short-cropped hair and long beard. He was easily a little taller than Richard and about as wide as I was; the man was a freight train that decided to stand up one day. “We met once in the parking lot.” I flashed my teeth. It wasn’t a smile, more like when a wolf peels back its lips before it attacks. “You might not remember me all that well on account of you being knocked the fuck out.” “You’re that little bitch that sucker punched me!” Jason said, looking me over. He was sizing me up to see if he could take me in a fight. He had a few inches of height on me, but that was it. If this came to blows it would get real messy and come down to who wanted the win more. “And you’re the weak prick that hits women,” I countered. In a fair fight I’d beat him, especially if I was fighting for Molly. Thing was, there was no fair in a street fight. There was a silence that fell into the room. Most MC clubhouses I’d been to had strict bylaws

against that kind of behavior. There was a muttering of disapproval or even disbelief that made its way through the crowd. It would take more than an outsider making accusations to sway a brotherhood. “You stepping in here was the biggest fucking mistake of your life, asshole.” “No,” I said, ignoring the man. I looked only at Molly. “The biggest mistake I ever made was not moving heaven and earth to get you back sooner, Molly.” Molly looked surprised, and had lost some of that resignation that bogged her down. Good, I thought. I never want to see that look on your face ever again. “Hey!” Jason stepped up in my face. “I’m talking to you.” “Good for you.” I stepped around him and walked to Molly’s table. To my surprise, the bikers separated enough to let me pass. I guess more of them believed I was telling the truth than I thought. I could feel Richard’s tension growing as the bikers filled in behind us, blocking the exit. We weren’t safe, not by a long shot. There was no backing out now. We were both in it until the end, however that may go… “You shouldn’t be here, Luke,” Molly finally spoke up, adjusting her glasses. “I shouldn’t do a lot of things, Moll. But I can’t

just leave you again. I can’t.” I reached for her, but Jason grabbed my wrist. “You should listen to my wife.” He wrenched me back to face him again. “Walk out of here right now. I don’t want Molly seeing what I’m going to do to you.” “You can do so much better than this guy.” I was in a locked stare with Jason, but was still talking to Molly. “And what, she deserves you? You’re the piece of shit that abandoned her. I was there for her when her brother died.” Jason shoved a finger into my chest. “Where the fuck were you?” I grabbed his finger and bent it back painfully, teaching him not to touch me. I eventually let him go, then turned my attention back to Molly. “Molly, I don’t deserve you either. You are a beautiful, amazing person that deserves the perfect man; someone that will cherish you and never let you down. “I’ve made mistakes but I promise you I’m never going anywhere ever again. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will learn to be that man.” “That’s a nice vest you have there. American made?” Richard asked Jason, stepping between us to give me some room to talk to Molly. “I’m so sorry for not telling you about the competition, but I will never keep anything from you again.

“Molly I love you, now and forever. And if I have to fight a whole room full of bikers to prove it, I will.” I reached out for her again, and this time Molly reached back. Molly’s eyes turned up and shined. She was starting to really see it. She was finally starting to understand that I meant every word that I was willing to put my life on the line to declare my love for her. And more importantly she was starting to see that I would never leave her again. “Oh Luke…” Molly smiled. “I—” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason interrupted her and shoved the nearest biker in a rallying gesture. “This is my ol’ lady, my wife he’s talking to. I thought you guys were my brothers!” The grumbling in the room got louder. Technically everything he said was true, but for all the wrong reasons. “Are you going to allow this in our house?” “Jason!” Molly screamed to stop her ex husband attacking me while my back was turned. I was too focused on Molly to see Jason slip past Richard. It wasn’t my brother’s fault; he was trying to keep an eye on dozens of people at the same time. Jason broke the pool stick across my back, which staggered me to one knee. Molly called out again, but no one was listening to her or to anything anymore. The mob had been

riled up. There were two men in their bar who weren’t in their club causing trouble. This place was about to erupt. “Sorry about all this,” I told Richard, standing back up. Back to back, we moved over into the middle of the room so that Molly wouldn’t get hurt by accident. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.” “You did what you had to do. I can respect that.” Richard turned his head to the side so I’d hear him over the room full of yelling. “But next time try calling her first.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” I smiled, lining up my route that would bring me directly to Jason. “I’m going for Cannonball, you got my back?” “Sure,” he said hesitantly, raising his fists in a boxer’s stance. “You take Jason. I’ll take the other twenty…”

RICHARD TWENTY FOUR

A

gnarly-looking older biker swung a bottle at my face. I dodged back and shoved him with so much force he left the ground and crashed against two of his friends. I’ll admit when I agreed to help Lucas, I hadn’t considered I’d be literally fighting his battles for him. This was crazy. We were outnumbered ten to one. Lucas and I were both big guys, but there was no way we were going to win this. Molly was yelling, trying to stop this madness, but her voice was lost in the drunk adrenaline-fueled shouting. Unfortunately for us, Jason sure knew how to get a crowd going. Lucas and Jason were landing and blocking blow after heavy blow. I did what I could to keep

people from blindsiding Lucas with a few kicks and punches, but I had my own small army to deal with. I ducked a wooden chair as it broke apart against the wall behind me; the balding man who threw it looked familiar. Stepping back, I took a moment to survey the mob. I found that the balding man wasn’t the only one that looked familiar. Not everyone was lining up to fight us either. A few bikers near the bar were trying to ignore the whole thing. This group didn’t strike me as having pacifists in their ranks so why not jump in and overwhelm us? Then I figured it out. “Pete Tully; iron worker!” I shouted, pointing at one of the men at the bar, then I pointed at another. “Joey Mills; dayshift manager at King Hotel.” I recognized some of these people from around town. They weren’t fighting because they knew us, some even worked for my family’s businesses. Joey had been the one to call and ask me to check on Lucas. They knew my family. I stopped throwing punches, focusing instead on dodging and blocking. I called out the name and position of as many people I could recognize. Nothing slows a man down in a brawl faster than losing his anonymity. For the people I couldn’t remember the names to, or didn’t know in the first place, I just called out

the name of where they worked and that seemed to be enough. Eventually the fighting died down. “Jonathan Banks,” I said finally, catching the fist that was meant for my face. The man looked shocked that I knew his name, caught his fist and didn’t immediately counter with a punch of my own. “How’s your daughter doing in college—was it Jennifer? Jessica?” I heard the girl’s name only once in passing, while I was touring one of the King manufacturing plants with my father. My father made it a point to go to every place he owned and meet as many people as possible. The People’s King they all called him. When I asked him why bother? Why not just focus all your energy on expanding instead he told me, “The real secret to success is to take care of your employees. If you treat them fair and help them prosper, they’ll work their asses off for you. A strong foundation in a skyscraper is far more important than the highest story.” “Justine…” The buzzed man looked confused. I let his hand go and he stumbled back a step. Once he got his bearings he said, “Uh good, she’s doing good. Just started her sophomore year.” “I’m glad to hear that,” I told Jonathan Banks, then turned to loudly address the rest room. “We’re Richard and Lucas King, if you don’t know us then you know our father—William King. Some of you

have met him; most of you have worked in one of his companies at some point.” “The fuck is all this?” Jason grumbled, getting back up from the floor. I didn’t see what happened to him, but both he and my brother were bleeding from the fighting. Jason was holding a knife. How long had he had he been using that? Worried, I glanced at Lucas—who was still unarmed—to see if he was alright. Lucas had some cuts on his arms and good slice running down his chest, but otherwise seemed OK. One thing was for sure, this was getting too serious. I had to stop it before someone was killed. “This whole thing is just a misunderstanding,” I said, rubbing my battered cufflinks. “Caldwell Hope is our home too, our community as well! We’re your neighbors, our father helped build this town. Is this how you would repay him, by killing his sons? This is crazy. My brother and I came here to talk, not to start trouble.” “Bullshit!” a scarred, bearded man called out. “You fuck with one of us you fuck with all of us.” “Damn right,” Jason agreed. “You think you can come in here and steal my wife? Community?” Jason laughed spitefully. “You’re not one of us. Go back to your glass mansions, rich boys.” “I’m not your wife,” Molly said defiantly. Everyone quieted to let her talk. She walked up to her ex husband and punched him square in the

face. “You disgust me.” Jason growled and went to hit her back, not realizing the knife was still in his hand. My heart leapt into my throat as I watched Lucas step between them, shielding Molly. He was ready to take the full brunt of the stab. Oh no… I reached for Lucas, but was too far away. I’d just lost my father, I couldn’t lose my brother too. At the last second a beefy hand caught Jason’s wrist, crushed it and turned it out painfully enough that Jason dropped the knife. It clattered uselessly, then was kicked away. “That’s not how we do things here, Cannonball,” said the gruff voice of a strong-fat man with long gray hair and a neatly kept mustache and goatee. The name patch on his vest read, Hooksy. President. “I never worked for the man, but I knew Will King,” the MC president began. When he spoke everyone listened. “Caldwell Hope didn’t want a chapter of the Black Chains to set up shop, even out here on the outskirts. They thought we’d be dangerous; bad for the community. Bring in drugs and all that. “I fought for months to incorporate, but got black balled at every turn. That was until I got a call from some billionaire wanting a meeting.” The president let Jason go, then shoved him away. “This

ballsy, motherfucker drove down to this very bar, back before we took it over, and talked with me for five hours. He wanted to get a sense of what we’re all about. “‘The winds were changing in Caldwell Hope,’ Will told me. ‘With all the out-of-towners coming in we’re going to need some help keeping order until we get more cops.’ In the end we made a deal, he’d go to bat for us as long as we made this town a better, safer place. “We both kept our end of the bargain. Without Will King, our chapter of the Black Chains wouldn’t exist. As far as I’m concerned, the King family is as welcome here as our own.” “Pres, this piece of shit is trying to steal away my ol’ lady.” Jason thrust a finger at Lucas. “I’m not your ol’ lady, Jason. Not anymore. I came here to talk but you were more interested in playing pool and starting a fucking riot to listen to anything I had to say.” Molly turned to appeal to Hooksy. “I’ve served him with divorce papers, but he won’t sign them.” “This true? You get served?” Hooksy glared at his Sgt-At-Arms, but Jason just looked away. The pres’ hard features softened as he spoke to Molly. “Don’t you worry about a thing; we’ll get him to sign.” “As for the rest of you!” Hooksy addressed the room one last time. “In honor of the passing of

Black Chains honorary member–Will King, for the rest of the night all your cheap shitty beer will be free.” The crowd roared in celebration and the debris was mostly cleared. Jason brushed past a few of the drunker bikers, knocking one to the ground, then left muttering how he’d been betrayed by his own brothers. The very same people that were just throwing fists and bottles at me came up to shake my hand, and offer their condolences or wax nostalgic about their experiences with my father. Maybe it was because I wasn’t all that familiar with the ins and outs of bar fights, but the whole thing was a surreal experience Lucas wasn’t put off at all by any of it. He shook a few hands, but his determination was still clearly apparent. He was here for Molly and Molly only, through the bad times and the good. He swept her up in a big hug and kissed her like it was the last day on earth. It made me smile to see two people overcome all obstacles to be together. A stark, powerful melancholy washed over me as well as I thought about Gloria. Words couldn’t describe how much I missed her at that moment. I wanted nothing more than to stare into those storm cloud eyes and run my fingers through her fine black hair… Watching Lucas swing Molly around as if they

were the only two people in the room would’ve made it easy for me to be jealous of Lucas, after all, he got the girl and I didn’t. I was beyond that petty emotion now though. I could honestly be happy for the two of them; they deserved both happiness and each other. If anything it doubled my resolve to make things right with Gloria. Love to me was a landmark picture on a postcard of a place I’d never been to. I knew it existed but I had yet to experience it in person yet. That was until Gloria. Whatever her and I had together it was too important to let it go without putting up a fight. I didn’t know how I’d win her back yet, but I knew I would. “Sorry to hear about the old man dying,” Hooksy handed me a beer then extended a hand. “He was a bold, crafty sonofabitch. He will be missed. “Thanks.” I shook the man’s rough, concrete slab for a hand. It truly was amazing all the lives my father touched. It was funny, I felt more comfortable talking about my dad with this motorcycle club president than I did with some of my extended family. Hooksy had a genuine salt-of-the-earth quality about him that made me understand how these people could easily follow him as their leader.

I bet, despite their stations in life, he and my dad had a lot in common. “I appreciate the save back there, Hooksy,” Lucas said, with his arm around Molly. They were both all smiles, and had a teenagers-in-love glow about them. “But if you were so buddy-buddy with our dad, then what the fuck took you so long, man? Your guys nearly took us apart back there.” There was a long, deliberate pause while Hooksy glared at my brother. For a moment I thought the old biker was going to take Lucas’s head off, until he snorted and chuckled. “I was in the can,” the president said, not losing any of his gruffness. “Next time call ahead first. Even your dad knew how to use a phone.” I gave Lucas a knowing look. “Shut up, Richard,” Lucas shook his head, smiling. He gave Hooksy a lazy salute to show his respect and appreciation, then cocked his head toward the door. “Molly and I are heading out, we’ve got some catching up to do.” “Don’t catch up too fast,” The old biker smirked through his thick mustache, then shook Lucas's hand. Molly blushed several shades at the veiled innuendo and kissed Hooksy on the cheek. “Did you know my father well?” I asked the old biker after the happy couple walked out the door. “I did.” He nodded thoughtfully, patting me on the shoulder. “He had the worst goddamn jokes I’d

ever heard.”

LUCAS TWENTY FIVE

M

olly’s apartment was a modest two bedroom squashed between two other floors in her three story building. It was a nice area and almost walking distance from the school she worked at. “Well being that you’re too damn stubborn for a hospital, let me at least patch you up,” Molly grabbed a first aid kit from her bathroom. “How many bikers have you had to treat?” I marveled over the backpack sized medical bag she had. “It’s not that bad.” Each cut and bruise hurt like a bastard, but fortunately they were all pretty superficial, even the one down my chest. I was lucky that Cannonball was half in the bag when we got there, because if there’s an unarmed person in a knife fight it doesn’t matter how good he is, that guy

usually loses. Molly laughed dropping the bag on the long thin counter that separated the kitchen from her living room. “The fire department was updating the school medical supplies and had a few extra trauma kits, so they gave me one.” Molly clipped her hair back, washed her hands, then slid on a pair of disposable latex gloves. She let them slap against her wrists ominously. “You’re not going to ask me to bend over and cough, are you?” I teased, feigning fright. “What kind of weird stuff did you get into while you were away?” Molly raised an eye, warily. “Don’t judge, it’s been a long, lonely decade.” I sat down at her small, expandable dining room. “Whatever you say, Elmo,” She smiled, then patted the air upwardly. “Strip.” “Yes, nurse.” Instead of pulling it over my head it was easier to tear it the rest of the way and let it fall off my back. Bloody and naked to the waist, I waited for her soft warm hands to take care of me. Molly dragged over the only other wooden chair from her small dining room set and sat next to me. She carefully laid out everything she had, then got started cleaning me up with stinging antiseptic. Soon enough everything was bandaged up. I only whined a little, not because the pain was overwhelming, but just to give her some playful grief. It was my way of showing her I was going to

be alright. I didn’t want her to worry about me too much. “All set, you big baby.” Molly peeled back her gloves and threw away the extra gauze and packaging. “I’ll grab you some water.” “I don’t need water.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her onto my lap. “I need you.” “Luke…” she said, worrying about my wounds. “I’m serious.” There was no more silly playfulness in my voice, just awe and sincerity. “It’s not every day you get a second chance at your one and only. You know I’ve always hated my stage name, but it’s not until this very moment that I’ve ever felt so lucky.” Molly smiled deeply, her glasses slid down her button nose ever so slightly. I took them off and put them on the table. Her prescription wasn’t too bad, she once described it as going from standard to high definition. “I love you Molly Baker.” I kissed her. “I love you today.” I kissed her again. “I love you tomorrow.” And again. “I love you the day after that.” And again. “I love you till the stars burn out and the sun falls from the sky. I love you to the end of our lives and to anything beyond that.” “I will never, ever, let you go again.” “Oh Luke…” The worry fled from her tone, it was replaced by honey, nostalgia and hope. And love.

I kissed her again, this time it wasn’t short nips, I drank in her lips like they were made of liquid heaven. Heat climbed up my scalp as she ran her fingers through my hair. There was nothing else to say after that. I picked her up and carried her onto her immaculately made bed and gently laid her down. We tumbled into each other, careful around my bandages when we remembered. She rolled on top of me and tore off her layered sleeveless blouse and cream colored bra. Her olive skin was flawless and perfect and just like how I’d remembered it. I grabbed her and pulled her close, needed to feel her skin on mine. I needed to breathe in her scent. It was all so important, so immediate. I might have died somehow right then and there if I didn’t get what I needed. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Molly protested, but quickly gave in. Her eyes shared my same urgency. “As long as I have you,” I whispered into her ear, my lips playing gently against her lobes, “Nothing can ever hurt me again.” Her body rippled against the vibrations of my words. I followed the shiver down her back with my fingernails. She turned her head to mine and bit then sucked on my bottom lip. “Don’t worry,” she said in between kisses down my chin and neck. “I’ll protect you.”

In a weird way she already did. If she hadn’t helped in the bar, who knows what would’ve happened? Molly had risked everything, and thrown away the last ten years of her life. When it came down to the most important decision, she chose me. In return I showed her I was willing to die for her. As she kissed down my neck I got up to follow her, but she placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down. “Uh uh. You stay right there. Doctor’s orders.” Her hard nipple grazed across one of my bandages, but I was able to suppressed the sharp pain so she didn’t notice. Fuck pain. The last thing I wanted was for her to stop. I could deal with pain, what I couldn’t deal with was any part of her leaving my body. When her tongue reached my collar bone I became aware of how hard my cock was. She hadn’t even got to my belt yet, and I was already making the leather strap groan at being stretched. I let my head lull back and enjoyed the sensation of her licking over every one of my bulging muscles. When she hit my lower abs I reached up and cupped her tits. I trapped her nipples between my fingers; rolling and squeezing them. Her tits slid over the rough denim of my jeans,

making my cock throb and yearn for her. Molly roughly unfastened my belt and popped the buttons on my pants that took the place of a zipper. I sat up, straining against the pain from my wounds only to have her push me back to the bed. “Down, stubborn boy.” I pulled my bottom lip out from my teeth and raised my arms in submission. You get to have your way for now, little girl. “Go ahead, have your fun, but I’m coming to take what’s mine soon.” Molly smiled, reaching into my pants and grabbing my thick cock. She squeezed and a hot wave of pleasure tore up my core making me moan. “Is that so?” “Because from what I see…” She tore my cock out of my pants and breathed in sharply as if still shocked at how big I was. Her dark eyes narrowed seductively as she gripped tighter and began to work her hand up and down my shaft. The motion turned my moan into a grunt. “I’ve got you by the balls, big man.” “Fucking hell…” I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look at her. My cock was right next to her face, making it look so small in comparison. “I love you. You know that?” “I think I can wrap my head around the notion.” Molly winked, kissing the tip of my cockhead, before taking as much of me as she could into her mouth.

Her slick pillowed lips and rough grip worked my rod over and over. She could only get about halfway down my shaft, but more than made up for it with the gymnastics her tongue was performing. She was getting me close, and could already taste my precome in her mouth. I loved getting my dick sucked, but I didn’t want to come like that with her. Not yet. I pulled my cock out and sat up. “Hey,” Molly protested, looking disappointed, then pouted. “I wasn’t done.” “Too bad. Time’s up. It’s my turn.” I was ravenous. I couldn’t stand the fact that she still had clothes on and in a painful whirlwind of motion I had her dress pants and underwear thrown across the room. “Luke, your arm.” A blossom of red darkened the bandage. I didn’t care. It didn’t look like it was going to bleed through and there would always be time for more bandages later. “I’ve got a spare just in case.” With my good arm, I reached behind her and threw her down on the bed. Molly laughed at how easily my strong arms were able to move her. I spread her legs and dragged the head of my cock over her glossy, hungry pussy. Then, against every fiber in my body, I stopped. “What is it? Are you alright?” Molly looked concerned.

“I’m not with you for any other reason than to be with you. I need you to know that. Fuck my inheritance. Fuck everything else.” “Luke…” “Do you have any condoms?” “No,” Molly said with heaviness in her voice. When I started to pull away she grabbed my cock, stopping me. “Let’s do it.” “Are you sure?” “We’ve lost so much time already. Let’s start living, really living. I want all of it with you.” Then she pulled me into her. Her pussy scorched my cock and pulsed as I let myself be guided at first, then finished the thrust myself. The feeling was so different without the latex barrier, so much more intense. It all felt so right, and for all the right reasons. We were really doing it. “Oh God, that feels so good!” Molly moaned loudly feeling every ridge and vein of my engorged cock. I grabbed her thighs and roughly pulled them into me, throwing one of her legs over my shoulder. I was so much deeper inside her now. Her body wanted to squeak and moan, but it was too consumed with gasping in air like she was drowning. Sweat rolled down between my pecs with the exertion. My body sharply reminded me of both

Molly’s pleasure and of the pain I’d endured. I pushed the latter out of my head and focused solely on her as I pumped forward and back. Our bodies were different pieces to the same puzzle. I lightly rubbed a thumb over her soaked clit, letting the waves of pleasure crash over her in time with my hips. Her pussy felt amazing. Being so close, so intimate got me close to the edge. I felt a tremor rip through her clit and then her form went rigid. She bucked hard against me and screamed, coming. “I love you too, Luke,” she half breathed half screamed and that was enough to make me explode. I emptied all myself into her; all my love, all my hope, and maybe even our shared future. I collapsed to the side of her, rolled onto my back and pulled her into a close snuggle. I never wanted her to be far from me again. “Oh my God. That was…” Molly chuckled weakly, wiping the sweat from her hair-matted forehead. “That was something else.” “Yeah…” I said, basking in it all. Everything was so utterly perfect that it was hard to think of it as real. Then darkness crept into my mind; the one thing I hadn’t told Molly began to eat away at me. “What is it?” Molly asked, her head resting in the nook of my shoulder. She was very perceptive and must have picked up on my sudden distance.

No more secrets. “I told you why I didn’t come back, but not why I had to leave in the first place.” “Luke, that can wait. We don’t have to talk abut that right now.” Her words reverberated through my chest. “We do. I need this to be a clean slate between us. No lies, no omissions and no half truths.” I craned my head over to kiss her on the forehead. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Molly. It’s important that we do this right.” “I understand,” she said softly. “When my biological father, this guy named Nick, found out my mom was pregnant he didn’t want to give me up. Nick was a traveling musician who loved the idea of having a son of his own and was going to make a lot of trouble for Mom and Dad: custody battles, the media, the whole nine yards. “Dad wanted to spare Mom the shame of a scandal hitting the news so he paid Nick a bunch of hush money, but that wasn’t enough. Nick wouldn’t be happy unless he had some shared access to me. I don’t know how but Dad somehow convinced Nick to wait until I was seventeen and then I would go live with him for five years. “There was a discrete contract written up and that was that.” “What was Nick like?” Molly asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know. Apparently he died when I was ten of a drug overdose.” “Wait so what happened? You didn’t have to go?” Molly lifted her head to look at me, confusion in her eyes. “That’s what we all thought. Dad was so convinced that the problem went away that he never even told me I was adopted. Then my seventeenth birthday rolls around and Nick’s wife shows up, contract in hand.” “What?” Molly’s jaw dropped. ‘Yeah. Dad tried to pay her off. He tried everything to get out of it. This lady wouldn’t budge; she threatened to call the cops and the media. Mom had been gone for a year by then, so Dad ultimately left the choice up to me.” My voice went quiet, before I could bolster the strength to continue. “I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t want to leave you, but I couldn’t let this random person destroy what was left of my mother. Mom made one mistake in her life and I couldn’t let that overshadow every good thing she’d ever done.” Molly was silent for a painfully long amount of time. I felt nauseous. The thought of it all crumbling apart with Molly again was too much to bear. “It’s alright, Luke.” Molly said, saving me from a fucking heart attack. “I forgave you today for everything that happened, not just some of it. What

was this woman like?” “Horrible. She somehow blamed my family for destroying her husband and wanted to take that anger out on someone. I was fed and clothed and treated well enough, but I was basically her slave for five years. When I got out I heard you’d gotten married…” “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “I couldn’t. That was part of the contract; no one could talk about the deal.” “Jesus…” Molly hugged me as tightly as she could without mashing my bandaged. “I’m sorry you went through that and I’m glad you’re back.” My heart soared. I couldn’t love another person half as much as I loved Molly. It had been one hell of a day. I went from the outrage of learning Molly was back with Jason, to fighting for my life, to winning her, to now…. My adrenaline was peaked and my soul had never felt lighter. We laid there for an hour and all I could think of was, “How long would things stay this good?” Forever, I realized. Our relationship would change and evolve over time. We’d grow old, and experience the rest of our lives together. It would be this good in different ways forever. Molly kissed me again, then rolled off the bed to start the shower. I turned on the TV for

background noise and was about to join her when I heard the news. “Several members of the band Deconstructed are in the hospital this evening after a serious car crash. Police say drugs may have been a factor—” The TV droned on. Oh shit, I thought. The Deconstructed were supposed to play Gloria’s store this Friday. There was no way that was going to happen now. Richard didn’t tell me any numbers, but he did say that having them play there would be make or break Black Rocket Records. “You coming, Elmo?” Molly called playfully from the bathroom. “Go on without me,” I told Molly. I hated myself for turning her down, especially when she was wet and naked, but now my brother needed me. Considering how much he helped me make this happen, I at least had to try to return the favor. “I have to make a few calls.”

RICHARD TWENTY SIX

“S

o, like, is the show really canceled?” A passing teenager idly asked Gloria, who was standing on a stepladder, busily tapping liquidation sale signs to the exterior of Black Rocket Records. Gloria exhaled with annoyed frustration, then resumed her work. “Yup.” All merch, all records, F-ing everything is half off, read the signs she was hanging. Beneath that read, Tonight’s show is canceled. “Oh…” The kid wandered off, not looking where he was going. I grabbed the surprised boy by the shoulders to stop him from walking directly into me, then turned him and let him go. Without a word of protest the hopelessly aloof teen ambled away. I stood behind her for a moment, watching her.

It was hotter than any late morning should be allowed to be. Gloria wore a gray tank top, a black baseball cap, sunglasses and a skirt. Her shiny metal studs caught the light and accentuated her fair jaw line and milky features. I was instantly reminded how much I was attracted to her. “Your signs have a typo,” I said. “It says tonight’s show is canceled.” “Oh for fuck’s sake…” Gloria muttered, letting her forehead rest against the window. “You see the news, pal?” Finally she turned to face the source of her newest pain-in-the-ass. Seeing that it was me, her eyes flared excitedly for the briefest of moments, then immediately narrowed. “What do you want, Richard?” “I came to watch the show.” “The Deconstructed are in the hospital. How have you not heard the news?” Gloria turned out her palms dejectedly, then let her arms fall to her side. It pained me to see the hurt in her face. Behind her tough girl act, I could tell that she was crushed. Her business meant the world to her, and now because some idiot musicians overdid it on drugs, she had to suffer for it. “I didn’t come for that show.” I waved to the stretch limo parked across the street. My brother exited the vehicle, followed by four

other men in dark shades who kept their heads down like those always on guard for paparazzi. I could only imagine the groveling, threats and favors that were called in for Lucas to make this work, but somehow he did it. Lucas did what every rock magazine in the country thought was impossible. There was a stunned look on Gloria’s face as each of the men said hi to her when they got close enough. Gloria took off her glasses as if the dark layer of plastic was lying to her. “Hey, guys, this is Gloria Grant, owner of Black Rocket Records,” Lucas said. He then turned to Gloria, a smirk splitting his face. “Gloria, this is John, Oscar, Isaac and Robbie—” “Gunmetal Tears…” Gloria blurted, then realized that was probably rude. She shook each band embers hand in turn. “Shit. Hi. Sorry. It’s nice to meet you! What are you doing here?” “We’re no Deconstructed,” Lucas shrugged, then winked. “But I’m pretty sure we can still draw a crowd. We’d like to play that empty stage tonight, if you don’t mind.” “Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah, of course!” Gloria pointed inside with shaking hands. “Make yourselves at home, there’s an office in the back you can hang out in if you want some privacy.” Lucas thanked her, then led his band mates

inside. “How…” Gloria looked at me, her rain clouds eyes sparkling. On the step ladder she was nearly as tall as I was. She wasn’t starstruck. It’s what the band symbolized that made her hands shake. They were the last minute out-of-nowhere life saving that might keep her business afloat. I smiled and said nothing. My words were stripped away by the beauty. If I could only see one thing for the rest of my life I’d want it to be her face in this moment. I had never seen her so happy and relieved. It made me want to devote myself to making her wear that look for the rest of her life. “I thought they hated each other,” Gloria sniffed away her surging emotions. “After the thing in Berlin…” “No, turns out they only hated Lucas. I don’t think they’re getting back together or anything, but they’re at least taking a night off from being angry at my brother.” “Oh my God,” Gloria carefully wiped the tears that threatened to ruin her black mascara. A renewed look of worry marred her perfect features. “The show... I canceled all the advertising. How the fuck are people going to know? Fuck!” I placed a foot on her stepladder to keep from toppling over as she suddenly jerked her phone from the waistband of her skirt. I quickly grabbed

her hand, steadying it. “Breathe,” I said. “I’ve taken care of everything. You just say the word and every news outlet; blogger and radio show in the area—if not the country—will hear about Gunmetal Tears one night only reunion show at Black Rocket Records.” “Why?” Gloria asked with hard, upturned eyes; this was all so tough for her to believe. I could see her difficult upbringing in those wounded eyes. It made my soul ache. “You don’t even know me. Why do any of this?” A million replies flooded into my head, but the only thing I could say was the most honest. “I don’t know… Because you’re worth it. And because I was a fool to ever give you up in the first place.” Gloria crushed me in a hug I thought and hoped would last forever. She whispered, “Thank you,” and began to cry. “I’m sorry I’m not better at this. I’ve—” I hesitated. I felt stupid and vulnerable. I was always prepared, I mastered everything I set my mind to, but when it came to Gloria I felt like a fumbling teenager; awkward and drunk off emotion. Then forced myself to continue, I needed to say it as much for myself as for her. “I’ve never been in love before now.” “Stop making me cry, you jerk!” Gloria’s chest heaved with laughter and sobs. We stayed embraced like that until we became

brave enough to finally look at each. I’d never been so overwhelmed by emotion. I could feel that my eyes and nose were red. The remnants of smudged black rivers ran down her pearly cheeks. We were an utter mess, but at least it was honest. On the sidewalk, late morning on a Friday, Gloria and I laid our souls bare to one another. The band was inspecting the stage and fooling around when we came inside. A few customers hovered nearby wondering if they were who they thought they were. “Not bad, big brother.” Lucas took one look at both of us and smiled from ear to ear. “Crazy, stupid love looks good on you.” Then he turned to Gloria, “Once you pull the stick out of his ass, he’s actually a pretty decent guy.” “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.” Gloria smiled at me in all her punk rock glory. “Where’s Molly? I feel like she had a hand in all this somehow.” “You’re probably right. My girl is crafty like that…” Lucas’s eyes narrowed in feigned suspicion for a moment. “She’ll be swinging by when school closes so you’ll get to ask her yourself later.” One of his band mates called Lucas over to the stage. Before he left, Lucas shot me another look and a nod; the gesture said good job, man. “What happened to ruthless Barbie?” Gloria asked when we were relatively alone. “Who cares,” I said, frankly. It didn’t matter

what happened to her, I got the only girl I wanted. I then put my arm around Gloria, leading her to the office. “C’mon, we’ve got a concert to promote.”

RICHARD TWENTY SEVEN

T

he rest of the afternoon had gone seamlessly. I had days to line everything up. My assistant and I went through all the preliminaries ahead of time. We’d prepaid for the ad spaces, had the all the promotional copy written up, had the band members record the various sound bites that radio shows would use. I wanted everything to be as easy as possible if Gloria said yes. Gloria didn’t really have much to do aside from talking Judy down from a metaphoric ledge. Judy had learned the hard way that it was very important to make informed decisions and not just jump into things half cocked. Gloria was right. Judy had a long way to go, but it seemed like she understood what was at stake

now. Judy decided to take more of a backseat in Black Rocket’s decision making process and even debated on enrolling in some small business management classes. Then the fans came. Word of mouth seemed to spread faster than the advertising, because people arrived in droves. It was a good thing that all the liquidation signs were taken down, because they weren’t at all necessary. Inventory flew off the racks prior to the show starting. Gloria had to separate lines for cash and card. Molly showed up just in time to be conscripted into helping ring people out. I wasn’t spared either, I was given the cash-only line and a quick retail crash course. Even with the added cashiers, we still couldn’t keep up with demand. Well over half their total inventory sold out in hours, merchandise couldn’t be brought out of storage fast enough. An additional detail cop had to be hired last minute to deal with the massive amount of foot traffic and lines that stretched down the block. Everyone wanted to see this once in a lifetime reunion show; and after a while people were getting turned away due to reaching the building’s capacity. People lost their minds when Lucas took the stage to thank everyone for coming out. He was

fully at home up there. His shirt was off and his long hair unleashed, my brother was the quintessential rock star. With his bulging muscles and electric guitar he looked more like a warrior than a musician. It was no wonder fans fell at his feet. All things considered, it was amazing how welladjusted he turned out where so many others had cracked under that kind of public scrutiny. “Is this what you hoped for with the other band?” I asked Gloria loudly over the cheers of the rest of the band being brought out and introduced. The registers were all closed, the inventory was partitioned off and watched by private security; for all intents and purposes Black Rocket Records became a nightclub. “This is way better!” Gloria yelled excitedly, cheering along with the crowd. I loved seeing her this happy. She’d lost the cap and the shades hours ago, freeing her to jump around without dropping or losing anything. Her shock of black hair whipped back and forth as Gunmetal Tears played their first song. I liked Lucas’s band, but I was transfixed by Gloria. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she started dancing. Her arms pumped, her ass and tits bounced, she sang along; Gloria exuded an aura of being absolutely carefree. This was what was in store for me, I realized,

watching her. It was all so strange and different. Her lifestyle lacked that safe sense of rigidity I’d grown accustomed to. For a moment it was frightening, as most radically new experiences tend to be. “Dance with me!” Gloria jumped into my arms and kissed away all my anxiety. With her by my side I felt indomitable, like I could handle anything the world could throw at me. I’d always been confident and cocksure, but this was…something more. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Gloria and I danced poorly and clumsily and we didn’t care, the whole point was just to move together. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun with a girl outside of the bedroom. When was the last time I even danced? The song ended and I kissed her. I lost myself so fully in her pomegranate-flavored lips that I didn’t hear Lucas calling for me. The spotlight had to fall on us for me to get yanked back down to the planet. “Get up here, Richard,” Lucas demanded. I was hesitant, but only because I wanted to stay with Gloria. Gloria wasn’t having it, shoved me toward the stage to face whatever was coming my way. The crowd parted for me and Lucas lent a hand for me to climb up on stage. I thought I’d be giving some sort of speech,

thanking everyone for coming out tonight and praising Gloria’s store; instead of all that Robbie, the bassist, handed me his instrument. After Lucas introduced me, I protested that I didn’t know any Gunmetal songs. “But I know you know some Deconstructed songs. Looks like we finally made it to that talent show, huh?” Lucas smiled mischievously, slapped me on the back, then went right into the opening of one song I was pretty sure I remembered. I was rusty as hell, but I got through it. I glanced up at Gloria whenever I could, she feigned swooning and I instantly relaxed. I wasn’t playing for the hundreds of people in and out front of the store; I was playing only for her. Lucas played guitar and sang, even doing the back-to-back with me during one of the instrumental parts. The whole thing was an intoxicating experience and before I knew it I was strumming out the last few chords. “Richard King, everyone!” Lucas called out, inciting the crowd to roar. I hopped off the stage and made my way back to Gloria, people patted me on the back and fist bumped me along the way. Doing that made me understand my brother more. The screaming crowd, the noise, the lights, the satisfaction that came with doing everything right made me see why he’d chosen that path. I used to think it was frivolous, but experiencing it

first hand was thrilling. It wasn’t something I’d ever pursue, but I loved watching Gloria’s face light up during the performance. “I do alright?” I asked Gloria after a big greeting kiss. “You were great!” She yelled over the crowd as Oscar, the drummer, did a solo. “Let’s go to the office.” I paused with Gloria at the door of her office when Lucas got back on the mic. It looked like he had something important to say. “Before we get back to Gunmetal’s greatest hits, I want to do something special. I’d been working on this one fucking song for months now and I couldn’t figure out the ending up until recently. You mind if I play it?” The crowed screamed excitedly, which was as close of a go ahead as he was going to get. “I’m still working on the title, so for now we’ll just call it… Molly’s Song.” No shit… Good for you, little brother. Gloria pulled me into the office and closed and locked the door behind us. We were behind the speaker stacks so the music wasn’t as deafening. The office was big enough to house her and Judy’s desks, a few extra chairs and some overflow cases of inventory. “You know my parents met in this very building. I guess it used to be a diner back in the

day,” I said, really liking the irony. It was hard not to imagine what life would be like with Gloria. There was a beautiful chaos that came with the thought of being with her. “You’re not going to ask to marry me are you?” Gloria shot me sly grin as she closed the blinds. “That would be crazy.” I carefully avoided the question. “Good. Because I’m crazy enough to do something stupid,” like say yes, her eyes said. Gloria walked over, tearing off her tank top and bra. “Is that so?” I pulled off my button-down and stepped into her embrace. Our tongues searched the inside of each other’s mouth as we passionately groped one another. I palmed, then grabbed her ass, squeezing tight enough for her to squeak. Gloria plunged a hand straight down the front of my slacks and grabbed my cock; she felt it fully harden in her hand. “The cops can’t protect you now.” She smiled wickedly stroking my massive length from inside my pants. She abruptly stole her face from mine and glared at me. Hand still on my cock, she squeezed threateningly. “I’d better not see another letter from you after this.” “I’ve made my decision,” I said, liking the rough pressure she used on me. I clenched a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back so I could drag

my tongue down her neck. “You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.” “Good,” Gloria declared, releasing my belt and unclasping my pants with authority. It was easy to tell that she’d wanted this just as badly as I did. Was I on her mind as much as she perpetually invaded mine? I moved her up against Judy’s cluttered and overstuffed desk. I wanted to brush everything off it and pin her to it like I did with her counter out there, but decided against it. Instead, I dropped into a crouch, grasped her inner thigh tightly and wrenched down her soaked panties. They were hot to the touch. Boyshorts, I knew it. I smiled knowingly. “Hey!” Gloria feigned a little outrage, to cover her mild embarrassment. “You were the last thing I was expecting today. Cut me some slack.” “I’ll do more than that,” I said, sliding my hand up under her skirt and cupping her smooth, wet pussy. The pressure of my hand lifted her up onto her toes and had Gloria gasping in air. My life for the longest time was control in all things, even sex. For the first time ever I let passion take over. What was this woman doing to me? Whatever it was I liked it. No… I craved it. With careful, deliberate ease I split her lips and rubbed her swollen clit, then I plunged two fingers into her and pulsed until her eyes rolled back in her

head. She moaned my name. I had her in every way. Gloria was wholly mine. I stood back up, slipping my wet fingers into my mouth and sucked them clean. “Mmm. Just like I remembered.” “Jesus…” Gloria slapped a hand on the desk because her knees were too weak to hold her. I finished removing my slacks and boxers; my cock was rock hard and eagerly glistening with precome. Being inside her and hearing my name lit my core on fire. I wanted every part of her; it was hard to even think straight. “I’m still not ready. Y’know for kids,” Gloria said hesitantly. “Not just yet.” Was she afraid that I might leave her now? Seeing how scared she was at the thought of losing me, filled me with a warmth I’d never felt before. I‘d been with so many women, but never anything like this. It was a strange feeling to know someone actually cared about me. “I can’t help you get your inheritance...” Her words tumbled heavily out of her mouth. “It’s just a number…” I finally understood what my father was trying to say in his backyard when we had that first meeting. The realization boiled in my brain. The money didn’t matter. It’s who you spend it with that matters. “That’s a pretty big fucking number. Really

think this over. I don’t want you to be disappointed that I’m not the girl you wanted me to be.” I took her face in my hand and gazed into those beautiful eyes of hers. “Gloria, you’re still all I see.” The wry expression on her face softened to a small accepting one. She nodded slowly, deciding to trust what I was saying. Then the corner of her mouth dragged up into a smirk and she walked over to the overflow inventory. Gloria searched then, broke open one of the cardboard cases. Inside was a display set of the same plastic wrapped condom boxes they sold in their novelties section. She ripped and shredded until she was finally only holding one sealed condom. “Please don’t tell me that glows in the dark.” I groaned at the thought. “No, that’s dumb,” Gloria whirled around with a growing smirk, then pressed something and the condom began to buzz, “These vibrate. Feeling adventurous?” My eye opened wide as she sauntered over to me. “Usually I don’t pull out the sex toys until the fifth date.” I said, knowing full well I’ve never been on any fifth dates. “Spoilsport,” Gloria kissed me, then clicked off the buzzing. She wiggled her fingers playfully

which was when I noticed the plastic ring. The condom didn’t vibrate at all, it was the ring. Gloria was a bit of a joker, I’d have to remember that. She rolled the thin latex down my cock, then when it was snug and secure she zapped the tip with her ring. “You’re asking for it now.” I said, sweeping her up in bear hug. Gloria screamed and laughed as I laid her on the throw carpet in the center of the room. Her ring was still vibrating so I grabbed her fingers and grazed her clit with them. “Oh fuck!” For several seconds she writhed underneath me, her pussy bucking against the sensation. Gloria went from biting her bottom lip to her mouth opening into an O wide enough to fit my cock. Mercifully I eventually pinned her offending hand to the carpet. I teased the head of my cock against her slick petals, each time I threatened to dip into her she raised her hips toward me. She screamed in frustration, “Oh my God, you’re the worst! Fuck me already!” My cock throbbed as the waves of heat rolled off her wet, ready pussy. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and pushed in. Even through the condom, Gloria felt unbelievable. After everything we’d been through it was hard to imagine actually having sex with this woman. It

was like when your whole dream was spent building up to a moment, but you always knew you’d wake before you got to the pay off. I expected to just wake up any second, sweating in my bed with a massive hard on. That wasn’t the case as I buried every thick inch of my shaft inside her. I slowly pumped, pinning both her arms to the carpet. God, I loved the way she twisted and twerked beneath me. Her thighs and legs gripped me tight, threatening to never let go. That was fine by me. “Oh fuck…” Her pale form panted and crunched forward as little earthquakes rocked her. Gloria’s moan turned into a series of joyous screams that would’ve been heard throughout the entire store if a rock band hadn’t been playing just outside. My head swam as she climaxed. She became a full-body vice around my cock and ripped the orgasm out of me that had been building since before I’d been arrested. I mashed my hips into her, sliding her up the carpet a few inches and filled the condom with my thick milky seed. Every second of being inside her was incredible, even after coming when my cock was rapidly growing sensitive, I still didn’t want to pull out. I hovered over her kissing her. It was the eager, sloppy kisses of two teenagers making out

desperately. “Tell me something,” I said. Sweaty and exhausted, I touched my forehead to hers. “Your eyes, are they really that storming shade of gray?” “Yes.” I could feel Gloria getting selfconscious. “I used to wear brown contacts to keep kids in my high school from making fun of me.” I looked at her, but she’d already glanced away. Gently, I raised her chin so I could see into her furtive eyes. Gloria was so strong and confident in so many ways that it was easy to overlook her vulnerability. “Children can be such fools,” I said. “I have never seen eyes more beautiful than yours. You’re perfect in every way, Gloria, and I want to spend the rest of my life telling you that.” Gloria reached up and dragged me down beside her, then she started to cry. “I think I’ve waited my whole life for you,” She said. “How’s that even possible? “I don’t know, but we have all the time in the world to figure that out.” The music had finally died down. Lucas's muffled, but still audible voice, took the mic once more. “I’d like to give a special thank you shout out to my brother, Richard and his beautiful girlfriend —the creative force behind Black Rocket Records —Gloria,” Lucas howled. He then smugly added,

“You may have heard them through the wall earlier.” I laughed. Gloria covered her face in embarrassment as the crowd cheered. Jesus… How loud were we? “Thank you all for coming,” Lucas continued. “We love each and every one of you. If you had fun, tell your friends! That’s our show, good night!”

LUCAS EPILOGUE

M

y parent’s house was way too big for us. It’d been a little over a month since we moved the rest of Molly’s stuff in and we still had no idea what we were going to do with all the extra rooms. This place was a palace. For as frivolous as I always thought it was, this house was the one I grew up in. I had so many good memories here. The best memories were of my time spent with Molly. One night after we’d moved in we snuck up to my old bedroom and fooled around like when we were kids. We both loved the idea of keeping the house in the family, especially with Molly pregnant. The thought of raising our own children where we’d grown up was a really nice feeling.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” I slipped behind her as she was chopping vegetables and kissed the side of her neck. Molly was my rock. I had spent so much of my life being carried by the wind that it was so nice to finally belong to something. She was my tether to the world. I’d never been more creative than I had these past few months and it was all because of her. Gunmetal Tears never got back together, but that didn’t stop me from writing new music. Knowing I had Molly by my side made the words and notes gush out of me. I’d have a full studio album recorded and mixed by the time little Reese was born. After the world heard Molly’s song on YouTube, record executives were banging down my door to get me to sign with their label. Richard toyed with the concept of starting up our own label —King Records. I think he enjoyed being on stage at Gloria’s store more than he’d let on. “Maybe?” She smiled, pondering thoughtfully. It had almost been twelve hours since I last said it to her. “Although… I think I’m due to hear it again.” “I love you.” “How much?” She demanded, sliding off the chopped carrots and grabbing a crown of washed broccoli. Dinner was done save for a few appetizers

that were just finishing up. “I love you more than there are germs on a tenyear-old’s hands.” “Wow,” She turned and kissed me. “You love me an awful lot.” There was rapping on the door, followed by a loud greeting. “We’re in the kitchen!” Molly yelled much too close to my ear. She laughed apologetically when I recoiled, then she kissed my ear. The popping sound at the end of the kiss only made it worse. “Sorry, Elmo.” “Your love hurts.” I smiled indignantly then turned to greet Gloria and my brother. They brought a bottle of sparkling apple juice for us all to share. “Holy shit, look at his cute little nose!” Gloria rushed over to the fridge where the ultrasound pic was posted. She clammed up suddenly, then ducked down and rubbed Molly’s stomach. “Sorry little guy, auntie Gloria was a sailor in a past life.” “That’s alright,” Molly laughed and they hugged. “It’ll break up all the classical music we subject him to.” “Hey!” I said, jokingly defensive, shaking Richard’s hand. “I read that was important for a kid. It helps them grow up smarter.” “If that’s the case, Molly,” Richard added with a grin, then clasped a hand on my shoulder

“Considering who the father is, your son will need all the help he can get.” “Funny.” I shoved him. It really was incredible how close he and I had become these last few months. It was hard to recall why we hated each other so much in the first place. “After months of back and forth about the inheritance I received this letter from Dad’s attorney this morning.” Richard pulled out the sealed envelope from his breast pocket. He hadn’t opened it yet, probably wanting to wait until we were all together. “There was a note with it, explaining that there was an intentional delay set into the reading of the will as per Dad’s instructions…. For some reason.” “Dad should’ve gone into acting.” I snatched the letter from my brother and tore it open. “He’s the most theatrical person I’d ever met.” Molly dried her hands and joined me at the breakfast nook table. We all sat down, ready to hear whatever words of wisdom Dad wanted to impart.

“M Y BOYS ,” I started reading Dad’s letter out loud. “First of all I want to apologize for all the subterfuge. Despite what you may think, it was never my intention to cause either of you any anguish. I love you both more than life itself.

“As a parent, I wanted nothing more than for you both to thrive and find your own happiness. “As your parent, I knew the only way that was going to happen was if I pit you two against one another. That fierce competitive spirit has brought you both so much success. It’s also what tore you both so far apart. Competition is a good thing, but it’s only half of the coin; the other side is cooperation and coming together. “The challenge was issued because you both were so damn stubborn—a family trait, I’m afraid —I couldn't simply tell you all that. In order for you to truly understand I had to show you. “I had to let you figure it out on your own. “This competition, the heartache, the trials, the reward of inheritance… None of this was for me. Unfortunately I knew I would never survive long enough to see my beautiful grandchildren, but that didn’t stop me from wanting you to experience that joy. “My biggest regret in life was not spending the time I had left with the people I cared most for, and not valuing those people enough while they were still alive. That was a mistake I never wanted to pass down to either of you. “However at the time of my writing this I can see that you’re both going down a dark, lonely path. That frightens me more than you know. I’ve seen the hollowness that waits at the end. My only

hope now is that neither of you have followed too far in my footsteps. “That was my final lesson to you. “You were too old for my fatherly wisdom. In truth, you've both far surpassed me in your own ways. “Richard, you are a far better CEO than I was at your age. You have the uncanny ability to break problems down and knock them over like dominoes. You will do great things for the King legacy, our corporation could not have a better leader. Please understand that you are more than your net worth. Find yourself outside of the company as well. You are a man first, a King second, and everything else afterward. My nurse tells me you’ve been seen with a plucky, young entrepreneur and that you look happy. You keep your emotions locked away too deeply; you need someone to bring that out of you. I hope this woman is the key to unlock that vault. “Lucas, I can never repay you for the debt you willingly paid on behalf of your flawed parents. Fulfilling that insane contract and living with that other family for the sake of your mother’s honor was the noblest act I had ever seen. You weren’t of my blood, and by not managing the family business, you broke a King tradition hundreds of years old. Your boundless empathy showed me that blood and tradition were nothing before family and love.

Pursue whatever makes you happy, my boy. “I’m saddened that I never had the chance to get to know Molly like my wife did. However seeing you together recently made me understand why your mother always turned a blind eye to you sneaking her over when you were children. She would say to me, ‘You wouldn’t deprive an arm of its hand?’ Lucas and Molly completed one another. They belong together.’ And she was right. “Please don't be sad for me. I'm with your mother now and all the pain is gone. I couldn't fathom a better place to be. “Lastly, this competition will stay in place until the terms are met. Fall in love, have children, find happiness. “I’m incredibly proud to have called you my children. I love you both. “Signed, William, an old fool, who learned far too late, that being a father was what truly made him a rich man.”

THE HEAVY SILENCE in the room that followed was broken only by soft sobbing.

“L OOKS LIKE YOU WON , LITTLE BROTHER .” Richard hugged me. “Congratulations. The inheritance is

yours.” The victory sank in my stomach like a hot rock. Richard and Gloria were planning on having kids eventually, just not right now. They wanted to explore the world together and nourish their passions for entrepreneurship. They shouldn’t be punished for not falling in love faster. If I took all the money for myself I’d truly have learned nothing. NO, it couldn’t end this way. “I’m not a very good millionaire, let alone billionaire,” I said, wiping my eyes and addressing the group. “With the way Richard and I have treated each other over the years, neither of us deserve this money.” “What are you saying?” Richard asked. “Let’s step out of the long King shadow for awhile. We’re all doing fine with our own ventures; we don’t need the fortune. I’m saying we give it all to our kids when they’re old enough.” “It’ll be a present from their grandparents,” Molly said, her beautiful red-rimmed eyes glistening with hope. “I like the idea of that, little brother.” Richard put an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s let the burden of tradition skip a generation.” “You do realize that means we’re all going to have to put up with each other for the next few decades, at least.” Gloria smirked, clearly enjoying

the idea. “I’m instituting a King dinner night! We’re going to practice being a family.” Molly beamed with ideas of future events. I loved her so damn much. “Tonight can be our trial run, what do you think?” “I’m down. And as Dad would say, ‘if it’s worth doing once…’” I looked at Richard expectantly with my own smirk. “Really?” Richard sighed, placing his hands on his hips. I nodded. “Fine. It’s worth doing a thousand times.”

RICHARD EPILOGUE 2

Halloween Masquerade Party

“Fuck.” Gloria’s storm gray eyes nearly rolled out of her head at the sight of the ring. She almost dropped her glass and silver mask. I had them commissioned at the same time; our masks were really one full face mask that was split in half. Two halves of the same soul. “That wasn’t really the effect I was going for.” I raised an eyebrow, looking up at her from my bent knee proposal. My own mask was placed on the carpeted floor next to me. I wanted to do this later on in the evening, but odds were that we wouldn’t be alone like this again.

The Halloween masquerade was on full tilt in the ballroom next door. Gloria and I were in an adjacent even room that was almost as big. Muffled music, dancing, and laughing could be heard through the wall. Candelabras and flowers filled the room with exotic scents and mysterious, uneven lighting. A few guests that cut through this room hushed their conversations, when they saw me on one knee. There was a sensation of awe and wonder everywhere, except the only place that mattered; directly in front of me. Could I have misread our relationship? Was I moving too fast for Gloria? Maybe this was a mistake. I began to stand up. “Wait!” She pulled her mask off and reached a hand out toward me. “Shit, I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. Can we start over?” I smirked, settling back down on my knee. I was again reminded why I loved this woman so much. Gloria was so unapologetically genuine. She always kept me on my toes, or in this case off them. “Gloria Grant,” I started again. I raised the box containing the engagement ring I bought. The ring —like her—was very special, and extremely hard to find. I finally opened the box and let her see the modest, yet rare artifact. “Will you marry me?” “Yes!” Gloria choked out the word, trying not to cry and failing. She tightly wrapped her arms around me like she had fallen off a boat, and I was

the life preserver thrown in to save her. There was a quiver in her voice that warmed my bones. “Oh my God, yes!” After a dozen tear-stained kisses, she let me go long enough to actually look at the ring. I couldn’t hide the pride I felt in getting her one I knew she’d like. “Holy shit. Is that…” Her bottom lip quivered. “Missy Gladstone’s ring!” I nodded, smiling. Gloria had turned me onto her favorite band Twilight Son. They were a three-piece ensemble from the seventies. The bassist married the drummer early in their career, and they both died in a plane crash ten years ago. It took a lot of money and time, but I was able to track down the original engagement ring. “You are amazing!” Gloria wasn’t the type of girl to squeal, but she came awfully close as she held it up to get a better look at it. “How?” “That doesn’t matter.” I picked her up easily. I might tell her about the whole arduous process someday, but not now. I wanted her to remember today as the day she became engaged; nothing else. “Y’know, you don’t have to do this,” She said, blotting at her cheeks to not spread her mascara further. “You already lost the bet.” “I won something far better than an inheritance.” I said, ignoring my vibrating phone.

No one was going to take me away from this moment. “You are so goddamn cheesy,” She smiled broader than I’d ever seen before. “I love you so damn much.” “I—” My phone hadn’t stopped vibrating. I took it out of my pocket, intent on throwing it across the room when Gloria stopped me. She looked up at me and told me to answer it. “It’s my assistant.” “Go.” Gloria rubbed the deep maroon of her lipstick off my lips and cheeks. “I need to put my face back on and gloat to Molly anyways. You’d better come find me when you’re done.” “Nothing could keep me away.” I kissed her long and passionately, ruining what was left of her lipstick. “Remember to wear your mask. This is a masquerade after all.” Gloria sighed, frowning. She did her best to tolerate the party’s theme. She loved the mask, but didn’t love actually wearing it. I slipped on my masquerade mask, straightened my tux, and went to the kitchen. There was an argument with one of the chefs, and some administration noise for me to clear up, but soon enough everything was running smoothly again. I made my way through the dance hall to find Gloria. “Hell of a ride, huh?” Lucas had stepped off

stage and grabbed my shoulder. He’d been chatting with the band while they set up for their next song. His long hair fell all around the black skull mask he wore. He nodded toward the table where Gloria, Molly, and Judy sat. Gloria was showing them the ring. I couldn’t suppress the happiness I felt at seeing the excited smile sweep across her face as she talked about it. Every time I looked at her, I felt warm all over. “I used to think we were cursed to always come out on top, but never win,” Lucas said, slowly shaking his head at his pregnant wife and burgeoning new family. He still had trouble accepting that this wasn’t just a really good dream he’d wake up from. This was his life now. “Yeah.” I threw an arm around my younger brother and jerked him to the side roughly. Because of our competitive natures, our brotherly love was always rough like how dogs played. “Dad would’ve finally been proud.” I shook him. “Don’t screw it up.” “Speak for yourself, old man.” He flashed me a grin, nodded, then broke away as the band started to play the song he wrote for Molly. In true Lucasstyle, he parted the crowd and slid on his knees to the table our women were sitting at. I walked over like a normal person, when an argument across the hall caught my attention. Judging from the size and shape of the man getting

yelled at, I knew right away that it was NFL MVP Garrett Walker. I hadn’t met him, but I remembered seeing his name on the guest list my assistant forwarded me. I didn’t envy that poor bastard right now; his wife was really laying into him about something. It wasn’t any of my business, I decided. I had more important matters before me, like a fiancé to dance with. “The trick to a masquerade party is to keep the mask on,” I said to Gloria with a smirk. She only humored me with this party. She never liked a lot of pomp and ceremony. “Oh my fucking God!” Gloria roared, tearing the mask off and slapping it on the table. “There. Now it’s on the table.” Judy and I laughed. Judy must’ve been giving Gloria grief about not wearing the mask either.

RICHARD EPILOGUE 3

“Hi, Judy.” I smiled warmly to her. “Do you mind if I steal my wife for a dance?” Judy looked great. She wore a light blue dress with a beautifully homemade mask. This sort of event definitely appealed to her, it was a shame she couldn’t share this with her boyfriend. From everything Gloria told me about Doug, Judy was too good for that complete waste of space. “Actually,” Gloria started. There was a look of concern on her face that bothered me. It made me wonder what Judy’s boyfriend fucked up this time. “Judy and I were in the middle—” “I don't mind at all,” Judy said in her customary, chipper, upbeat voice. She stood up and offered a little smile, before walking out into the dance floor. “I need to go find Doug, and harass him into at least one dance, before he gets too

drunk and makes another scene.” “Everything alright?” I asked, watching Judy leave. “I don’t know.” Gloria’s lips pulled to one side of her face in a confused frown. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. How about you? You put out all the fires?” “We’re alright.” I looked down at Gloria’s hand. It looked so fucking good with that ring on it. “What’d they say?” “They didn’t even know who Twilight Son is! Can you believe that? I have the worst friends.” She smiled despite herself. She was still excited to be wearing it. When the song ended, my assistant took the stage and called out for me to come take the microphone. “Please tell me you didn’t set up some grand gesture that would put me in the spotlight in a room full of strangers…” “No. of course not,” I said, texting my assistant to cancel the announcement. Gloria saw through my lie and smiled. I stood up and grabbed Gloria’s hand. “OK. You caught me. Let’s get out of here before they find us.” Gloria laughed, no doubt reminded of the last time we were at this golf course for a party. I guess we’d never get through a whole night at one of these events, and honestly, that was fine by me. As

long as she was by my side, I couldn’t care less about these parties. I led her out of the main hall, down a few large hallways, and into an audio visual supply closet. Not the most romantic of locations, but at least no one would find us here. Eventually they gave up on the announcements and the band resumed. Even at this distance, I could still feel them playing through the walls and floor. “I think we’ve lost them.” She laughed, panting from our quick exit and light jog. The room was small, cramped, and stuffed with electronics. The terrible, cold, overhead fluorescent lighting made Gloria look even paler than she usually looked, but it still couldn’t rob her of her natural beauty. The flickering light also deepened her thunderstorm eyes, making her look even more mysterious. I would have the rest of my life to explore everything about Gloria, I realized. “What is it?” She asked, noting my broad smile. None of the answers that swam to the forefront of my mind could convey how blessed I felt at that moment. Nothing I could say would capture the way I saw her, and how much I loved her. So I kissed her instead. My lips went on a tour of her neck and ears. I dragged my teeth down her soft, pale skin. With one hand on the middle of her back and one

cradling the back of her head, I pushed her against the wall hard enough to make electronic equipment on the nearby shelves rattle. We fell into each other. Gloria let out a heavy erotic sigh and began wrenching at the lapels of my suit. She liked the edge of roughness. I liked giving her what she wanted…after a bit of teasing. “You know,” Gloria said in between smiling, spikes of breath, as I worked my mouth down her collarbone. “People are going to wonder where you are.” “Let them.” I tugged the zipper down the back of her black dress and worked my other hand behind the loosening fabric. With a quick snap of her bra clasp, and shrug of her shoulders, all the fabric fell to the floor. Gloria was naked save her panties, low heels, and a devilish smile. I gasped in air at the sight of perky tits and hardening nipples. She was so damn perfect. A wave of near-incontrollable lust boiled inside of me, making my cock ache from the sudden blood rush. A moan escaped me as I licked my lips and scoured every inch of her soft, glowing skin. Gloria’s dark eyes deepened when she saw the hold she had on me. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else than her, and she knew it. I loosened my bow tie, as she slid my jacket off,

and unbuttoned my shirt. I pulled off my sleeveless fitted undershirt, and watched her eyes light up at the hard rows of my abs and chest muscles. Like a moth drawn to my fire, her hands were on me, sliding over my every carved valley and solid ridge.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck in an AV closet.” Gloria smiled as she pulled my belt free with a sudden jerk, and smoothed my pants off my hips, letting them fall to the ground. The thick, rigid outline of my hard cock strained against my tight black briefs. Gloria bit the corner of her lip when she caught sight of it. “High school me would be so impressed right now.” “High school you couldn’t imagine how hard you’re about to come. Not in her wildest dreams.” I swept everything off a nearby cabinet and sat Gloria down on top. Flat screen monitors crashed around me and fizzled against the concrete floor. A few shards of glass and plastic sprayed over my pants, ripping small holes in the fabric. That didn’t matter. Seeing her like that made it impossible to think straight. All I cared about was peeling her panties back and diving into her pussy. “Oh yeah? You’d be surprised at– Oh!” Gloria laughed and quivered, as I jerked the thin cotton

fabric aside. As horny as I was, she was lucky I didn’t tear her underwear in half. I pulled her thigh up to open her slit even more. Gloria’s pussy eagerly glistened. Her whole body wanted me. I couldn’t contain myself anymore I ravaged her clit and lips, with a savage hunger. “Holy shit!” Gloria arched her back and pushed her hips into me harder. She loved the pressure of my tongue and teeth against her tender petals. I licked and sucked, and teased and flicked, until her thighs began to tremble. I slipped my free hand into my briefs. I squeezed my rock solid cock, and began to stroke myself as I ate her out. She quivered, like champagne bubbles rising to the top of a toasting drink. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” Gloria twisted to the side as her first orgasm rippled through her. “Don’t— Don’t stop.” I slowed my tongue, but didn’t stop. I dropped my briefs and let my cock bounce in the open air. I loved knowing that she was watching me. Hearing her moan made me jerk off faster, which in turn, caused her to moan even louder. “You’ve ruined it for me now.” The vibrations of my deep voice sent shivers through her pussy. “I’m never going to be able to stroke my cock without the taste of your sweet pussy on my lips.”

Gloria nearly bent in half, as another orgasm made her gasp in air. When all the aftershocks subsided I leaned away from her, wiped my chin, and stood up. Gloria pressed a hand into her chest, trying to slow her heart rate. She was nearly out of breath. She grabbed the back of my neck, pulled me in for a kiss. She licked my chin and, smiling, said, “Good.” Gloria hopped off the cabinet. The broken monitors crunched beneath her heels. I wheeled a cart of projection equipment out of the way and laid my jacket over the concrete. Then I brought her down on top of me. I could feel broken bits of plastic and glass poking me beneath my jacket, but I couldn’t care less. Gloria straddled my legs just above my knees, bent down and licked the length of my cock, then kissed the tip sweetly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” “I sure as hell hope not.” I shot her a concerned sidelong glance. “Not this.” Gloria smiled and squeezed my cock in both hands like a joystick. The pressure felt amazing. I was so big that she needed to use two hands to get fully around it. She started to stroke me as she continued. “Of us. Of being with you. Every day, I wake up and have to remind myself that it wasn’t all a dream. We’re actually together, and now we’re even getting married! I thought it

would be too much. I—I was worried I might run away from it all. But now I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the world.” I sat up as best I could, and pulled her face close to mine. “You are my world.” “I even love how cheesy you can be sometimes,” she said through a wide smile. I laughed, knowing I could never allow myself to be vulnerable enough to be corny around anyone else than her. My fiancé. She pushed me back down and began sucking me off. Her mouth and tongue worked their magic along my cock. I thought about sliding into her tight hot pussy, but I didn’t bring any condoms. We might have children eventually, but we weren’t ready for it yet. That was fine. I loved the way she sucked my cock. She moved her hands up and down my shaft in time with her mouth. Occasionally her lips would pop off my hat head with a loud smack, so she could draw in air. She felt incredible. I couldn’t touch myself half as good as she could. It wasn’t just her skill that made my heart beat ring out like rain on a tin roof, it was who she was. She was going to be my wife. She rolled her head around the tip of my cock and massaged my balls. That was it. I grunted and propped myself up on my elbows as my whole body

contracted. Hot cum shot down her throat. Gloria struggled to swallow all of me, but she got through it. She even licked me clean afterward. I loved seeing her tongue drag long, slow, lines up my thick cock, even if the light pressure after such a big release was almost too much to bear. I grabbed her and pulled her down on top of me. “I love you. Did you know that?” “Somewhere between my first and second orgasm, I figured that out,” Gloria said, with her head pressed to my chest. She smiled after a moment then added, “The engagement ring also helped.” I stayed quiet, hugged her tightly and basked in the weird, beautiful moment. “Do we have to go back out there, Richard?” Gloria asked, a slight whine crept into her voice. “Fuck it, let’s just stay here.” “All night?” She lifted her head and gave me a skeptical, but amused, glance. I brushed the matted, sweaty, black lock of hair from her brow and looked into her incredible, stormy gray eyes for what felt like a lifetime. “As long as I’m with you, Gloria, I don’t care where I am.”

END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jackson Kane is a professional stuntman, athlete, romance author, and above all else, a hopeless romantic. From American Ninja Warrior, to some of your favorite films, Jackson brings a unique writing style forged from countless harrowing adventures. He’s a lover of travel, his fans, his romance author peers, dulce de leche, and all things beautifully weird and interesting. He invites you to relax, have a whiskey sour and let him thrill and excite you in a way no other author can. Jackson will show you what the world looks like through the eyes of a genuine Bad Boy. Come with him, and read dangerously. Join Jackson’s BAD GIRLS email newsletter

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Become one of Jackson’s Kandy Kanes In my fan group, you’ll have access to contests, cover reveals, exclusive content, and secret videosincluding Afternoon Quickie with Jackson Kane, which is a weekly live chat with the author! You’ll have private access into the world of a BAD BOY male author. My Kandy Kanes ALWAYS see it first! Join Jackson’s BAD GIRLS email newsletter

THE CASANOVA EXPERIENCE

By Mickey Miller

This is one of my favorite books I wrote in 2017, and it’s a great second chance novel for the holiday season. Enjoy! -Mickey Miller

Even the Casanovas of the world have a girl they wish they could have conquered, but couldn’t. — MICKEY MILLER

PROLOGUE AMY

“L

ast call, flight two-zero-two, direct from Chicago to Barcelona.” I stared at my ticket, eyes unfocused. What did it even matter anymore? Every guy I dated was a total dick. That was just my fate in life: to date dicks. For me, “the one” was an elusive myth best relegated to corny rom-coms. Why did I even care if I went to Barcelona? Even if I met another guy, he’d probably cheat on me. Sorry. I know I probably sound bitter. But after you walk in on your boyfriend getting blown by his manager at the bar where he works, you go into a bit of a phase, to put it lightly. “Miss, excuse me, Miss?” a polite but firm voice spoke in front of me. I shook myself out of my daze. “Yes?”

“Your ticket. It’s for Barcelona. This is the last call. Are you going to board?” I swallowed, turned my chin up, and took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m boarding.” The attendant took my ticket, scanned it, and handed it back to me with a puzzled look. “Good, the doors will be closing as soon as you get on.” On the flight, I waltzed past the first class section to the back of the plane. A young girl stopped me before I reached my seat, reaching out her arm to mine. “Amy!” she exclaimed. A smile broached my face. The adorable creature was maybe eight years old, and sat next to her mom. “Jenna! I didn’t think I would see you again.” “I knew I would see you again,” she responded. Her dimples shown deeply when she smiled. I blushed. I’d only read to her in Spanish for ten minutes while we were waiting to board the plane. I forgot how much even the smallest gestures meant to little kids sometimes. “Thanks for reading me that book in Spanish. I feel better about going to Barcelona now.” I laughed. “It’s no big deal. Trust me.” “How do you know Spanish though?” she put her arm on me and furrowed her brow. “You’re American.” Her mom smiled at me. I didn’t feel the need to

explain to this first time traveler that Spanish was a language spoken by at least sixty million Americans. She’d learn with time. Her world was still small. I put my hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “I lived in Spain when I was in college, honey. You can learn any language you want, no matter what. You just have to study hard and not give up.” “Really?” Her eyes bubbled up. “Can I? Mom, can I even learn Spanish if I want?” Her mom looked a little surprised at the question. “Of course you can, honey.” The flight attendant was staring me down, surely wishing I would take my seat. “I’m going to head to my seat in the back, have a safe flight Jenna!” “Bye Amy!” Her voice was so bubbly, it put a smile on my face as I found my seat toward the back of the airplane. I found my window seat and stared out onto the runway as the attendants ran through the safety protocol. Thinking about how much I’d loved reading to Jenna in the airport, my mind drifted to kids. I loved them, but I wasn’t ready for them. Maybe someday. Not today. Let’s be honest, at the rate I was going, I was probably not ever going to have a stable, lasting boyfriend to raise a family with. My last cheating boyfriend was only the latest

in years of failed relationships. Although the sports marketing company that my coworker Andrea and I founded was booming, my personal life was in shambles. I smirked slightly, finding a little solace in the fact that, somewhere, deep in my heart, I knew I didn’t want to be with my ex. He was an okay guy-don’t get me wrong. But real talk, he was barely an inch taller than me, little Amy. I’m just over five feet. And he didn’t like to read! What kind of guy says no to books?! We lifted off the ground in Chicago and smoothly sailed into the sky above. After we leveled out, the staff came by asking if we wanted anything to drink. “Gin and Tonic please.” The stewardess moved swiftly to dole me out my drink. The guy next to me leaned out of the way and let her hand the plastic cup to me. I took a sip, and then I took another longer sip through my straw. I was on an empty stomach, so the buzz hit me in a few minutes. It felt good. I swept my brown hair behind my head and stuck my forehead against the cold airplane window of the jumbo jet, looking out into the black of the night sky. Through the haze of my buzz, I thought about a man I used to know. He was the one I pushed away years ago, because I was afraid he’d become the

same as all the other crappy men in my life. “Chandler, where are you now?” I said aloud. I’d been just a girl when I met him--barely twenty. Now I was five years older and had my own company. Yet still, when I fantasized and let my mind drift off about who I’d love to have kids with, his frame popped into the picture. I wondered if I would ever see him again. Sure, he was an asshole like all the others. But I’d never met a man quite as honest as him or as sexy. A surge of adrenaline came over me just thinking about him. I hadn’t been back to Barcelona in five years. I doubted he ever even thought of me anymore. I was probably just another notch on his belt--except I was one he never got to mark off. Yet something bothered me about the way we’d left our friendship. I never really gave him a chance to prove himself. Because wherever Chandler went, he was known for leaving a trail of broken hearts. As good of a lover as he was, the man never committed. Not to anyone. What would make me so special that I could tame him? I ordered another Gin and Tonic from the stewardess when she came back, sank back into my chair, and closed my eyes. My memory drifted to when I’d first met him, and how my silly crush on him had begun.

PART ONE

Five Years Earlier

ONE AMY - FIVE YEARS AGO - BARCELONA, SPAIN

D

epression doesn’t give a shit about you. It nips at your heels, reminding you of all of the bad things in life, and how much better everyone else has it. On Facebook and Instagram people show the best parts of their lives. Rarely do they snap a photo of the worst. The thing I hated most about my depression was that it always knew where to find me. It would sneak up when I least expected it, tap me on the shoulder, and say, “Hi there Amy, what are you up to? I thought I might follow you around today.” The big bad D had found me in Barcelona and after a week of living here, I was thinking that my mom’s concerns about me not dealing with my depression were legit. It made adjusting to the language barrier, the jet lag, and starting classes the

day after I’d arrived that much more difficult. I channeled my therapist and tried to think positive. I thought about my dad’s parting words before I boarded my plane at O’Hare in Chicago: it’s an adventure, don’t forget to live it, and have fun. As the busy traffic sounds of the city streamed through my window, I focused on coming up with one thing that was good about this morning. And that, I decided while sniffing the air, was that the coffee smelled damn good. I was already waking up when my host mom knocked on the door. “Amelita?” Doña Maria chirped. “Yeah…?” I returned, my voice hoarse. I heard her jiggling with the knob and then her voice filled my room. “Chandler is back from his two week spring break. Why don’t you get dressed and come down to meet him? I’ve made you two breakfast—your favorite—an omelet with bacon and avocado.” It was like she’d known I was down without actually knowing, and had taken extra care to find out a few of my food likes and make them for me. Clearly, she had experience dealing with emotionally fragile study abroad students. Her hospitality was really sweet and it did help. However, I was still getting used to the Spanish schedule of waking up around 9 a.m. and getting to class around ten most days. My host-mom’s mood rubbed off on me a little bit, and I decided that

today, I might try a go at actually enjoying myself, as much as it pained me. “Amelita,” she repeated, a little more insistent. “Coming,” I finally groaned and forced my eyes open when something she’d said hit my brain. I glanced over at the door. “Wait!” “Yes?” Doña Maria said, and poked her head back into my room. I’d been living in her apartment in downtown Barcelona since I’d arrived, and I was under the impression that it was only me who was going to be living here with her. She’d never mentioned another student since I arrived, and the program advisor hadn’t mentioned it either. “Who’s Chandler?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “Chandler is your host brother, Amelita,” Doña Maria said, like it was the best news I could ever hear. “The program gave us two of you this year. Chandler arrived in January, and he’s here for winter and spring.” She smiled and closed the door. I propped myself up on my elbows and glanced out my bedroom window. The sun was bright and making me wince a little. It was mid-April, springtime in Europe, the best time to visit—or so I’d read. It was nice weather back home in Chicago, too; but I hadn’t come here for the weather. I had hoped a change in scenery would be better medicine than taking actual medication. I

wanted to get away from the people around me, especially my mom—who was great, but living in the same city as her while going to college was a little much. Dad was more hands off and trusted my judgment, which was why I was probably closer to him. He saw me as Amy, his daughter; not Amy, his daughter with depression. I suppose it balanced them out, Mom over worrying and Dad being more easygoing. I just needed to figure shit out for myself in general. Studying in Spain had not been on purpose, but rather by happenstance. I’d decided to do this on a whim, last minute and it was by pure luck that I got in. At Columbia, my focus was on marketing and management—nothing to do with Spain or its culture—but I was ahead in my credits and taking all electives while abroad. I was here to have fun and do something different. Discover something new. But it would be a brief visit. My school here was on trimesters instead of semesters, so I would only be staying through the middle of June. I squinted at the clock on the nightstand next to my bed. My Monday classes started soon and I needed to get a move on if I wanted to get to the subway and to my classroom on time. I threw the covers off and shuffled to my door, not in the mood to meet new people. I wondered if it’d be weird with this complete stranger and me living in this

apartment—together? What kind of guy studies abroad, anyway? Of the three guys on my program that I’d met, they were all long-haired, skinny hipsters. Not my type. Yawning, I sauntered down the hallway still in my tank top and short pajama shorts. I took a second to glance down at myself. I definitely wasn’t looking my best. Whatever. I grew up around parents who walked around the house naked, so it wasn’t like I cared who saw me in my early morning state. However, the “whatever” mindset disappeared the moment I rounded the corner and laid eyes on my ‘brother’. He sat in profile to me, elbows on the breakfast table. He was sipping coffee and reading the local newspaper—in Spanish. I did a double take. Seeing him for the first time reminded me of Sixteen Candles when they cut to Molly Ringwald’s love interest for the first time. What was that actor’s name again? The sun poured in from the front windows, landing on him like a spotlight. When he flipped the pages, his arms flexed. His chest and abs were chiseled, with a tattoo of a rose above his heart, and another image that I couldn’t quite make out on his abs. His skin was olive-colored, and he looked as though he certainly had a healthy bit of Greek in him, or maybe Italian. Or maybe something totally different, but definitely a little

exotic. His hair was a dark color, borderline black. When he looked at me, I stared at his eyes. They somehow ranged in hue from light blue to dark green, a combination that perplexed me. “Hola. You must be Amelita.” He flashed a cocky almost-smile in my direction. He returned the favor by looking me over thoroughly. The way his eyes scanned my entire body in a leisurely way, twice, sent chills through my body. “H-hola…” I stammered, expelling the air I’d been holding while he perused me. I shook my head. “Wait. Did you say ‘Amelita’? My name’s Amy but no one here seems to know that.” He laughed—a hearty laugh for so early in the morning. “‘Amelita’ means ‘little Amy’. Guess you haven’t had time to brush up on your Spanish yet. How long have you been here?” My pulse accelerated and I took the coffee Doña Maria placed in my hands and urged me toward the table. “Just over a week. And you’re… my host brother?” I asked, distracted. “Yep. Me llamo Chandler,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I just got back today from a trip. Looking forward to living with you, little Amy.” He winked. Once again, I watched, riveted as his biceps flexed. He could have done ads for arm porn. And when he spoke in Spanish with Doña Maria, it sounded flawless and natural. In spite of my sudden

inability to speak, I pulled out my chair and sat down across from him at the small wooden table. Chandler continued to watch me from his seat, as though waiting for me to say or do something. But I just kept staring back at him like an idiot. My host mom was intently watching the interaction between us as she set my plate with my omelet before me. Meanwhile, Chandler continued to watch me openly, which made me doubly nervous. He was a big guy, and his left knee kept bumping into mine, or mine kept bumping into his because I was suddenly jittery. And it wasn’t the coffee. He definitely wasn’t skinny. Or a hipster. I gulped down a bit of my omelet—which was delicious—and tried not to gawk at this guy sitting across from me shirtless. Maria gave a nod as she sat to my left, a small smile on her lips. We both looked at her when she sighed, smiling. “I think you two are gonna be friends,” she said, in her cutesy Spanish accent. “Oh, I have a boyfriend,” I blurted out. As soon as I did, I felt my cheeks get warm from embarrassment. That was not relevant to the conversation. I couldn’t think in front of this guy because his damn abs were too distracting. Doña Maria let out a chuckle at my out-ofcontext statement. “It’s good. It’s okay. Chandler ya tiene muchas chicas. Muchas amigas.” I ruffled my brow at her broken English and

glanced at Chandler. “What did she say?” Chandler cocked his head to the side. He quirked the corner of his lips. “Don’t worry about it.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Fine. I won’t.” But I was worried about it. Ya tiene muchas chicas. I made a mental note to look that phrase up ASAP.

TWO AMY

A

nother week went by, but I didn’t see much of Chandler, especially over the weekend. His classes were also completely different from mine so I never saw him on campus either. I wasn’t sure when he went to class because he seemed to sleep late every morning, and I was out the door before he’d get back. Then he’d arrive late in the night back to Doña Maria’s apartment when I was trying to sleep. And, I’d successfully Googled the phrase that I’d been wondering about. Ya tiene muchas chicas meant Chandler already has a lot of girls. I wasn’t sure if she meant friends, or girlfriends, or something in between. It was hard to say. But tonight, judging by the screams I was hearing in his room, he’d brought one of his girlfriends home. Again.

In the corner screen I stole a glance at myself. My long brown hair and brown eyes didn’t look too shabby, if I did say so myself. And I wouldn’t put myself in the “flashy” category, but I had thrown on some eye shadow tonight because I felt like it. I thought I looked damn good. Scott, my boyfriend, hadn’t mentioned anything yet, though. I always wondered if he really thought I was pretty. “What’s that noise in the background?” Scott asked me via Skype, his face scrunching up. I stared into my computer’s web cam while I sat on the bed of my tiny room. Behind Scott, I could see into his dark bedroom. It was almost 11 p.m. here, which made it about 4 p.m. for Scott back in Chicago. Nevertheless, for the past half hour, we’d been trying to Skype while hearing constant banging on the headboard, moaning, and growling in the room next to me. Chandler’s room. Him and one of his chicas. “It’s my freaking host brother.” He’d only been back for a week, and I was already getting frustrated by his nightly ritual of bringing a woman home. For once, my boyfriend Scott and I agreed on something: Chandler’s behavior was ridiculous. “He’s been having sex for…oh, I don’t know, the last hour? I always hear a lull, I think it’s going to stop, and then it just starts back up again.”

Scott shook his head. “Who the hell is this guy? I mean, who has sex for that long? It’s really distracting.” Scott had no idea just how much. I decided not to tell him about the morning sessions. And, sometimes, the afternoon sessions. “His name is Chandler. He plays basketball at the University of North Carolina,” I told him, pausing at a particularly loud bang. I eyed Scott. “Honestly, I met him the first morning about a week ago and since then I haven’t even seen him. He gets up late, goes to basketball practice, then goes out after, and brings a friend home almost every night.” “That’s gross. He should really get a room.” “Well, um, he kind of has a room,” I pointed out, a little surprised that I was defending Chandler. “But yeah, it’s annoying for me. I’ve been thinking about requesting a host parent change, but the program is really full this year.” “Your host mom doesn’t mind?” he asked, looking down at his watch and sounded bored. He also seemed distracted. “No, apparently not,” I answered, honing in on the weird vibe from Scott. “According to her, I guess it’s kind of a manly thing here to bring a girl home. And her room is on the opposite side of the apartment so I don’t think she hears it like I do.” “I see. Well…I have to go,” he said, already reaching toward the top of his laptop. “I hope you

can sleep tonight with that!” I wasn’t expecting his abrupt cutoff. “Wait, Scott, I had an idea.” I puffed my lips as best I could, in a ‘Blue Steel’ kind of expression. I felt a little ridiculous, but I needed to carry out my plan to spice things up. Scott rolled his eyes. “What? What now?” he snapped. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, so I tried fluttering my eyelids a little bit and puffing my chest out to make him wonder what might be under my robe. “Babe, why are you getting all upset?” I asked. My tone inferred that I was getting a little upset too. “I’m not upset,” he said, his tone of voice and expression hard and biting. “That’s usually your department.” I flinched at his remark. But for once, he also had a point. Even though I took my meds daily, there was still no guarantee that they worked effectively all the time, every hour. I did get moody with him but I thought he understood that about my disorder. My level of depression was in the moderate to high range but my therapist, Dr. Han, had also warned me that most antidepressants only worked on really severe cases of depression. It’s why my therapy sessions were focused on keeping a positive attitude and learning ways to relax and

control my anxieties instead of solely relying on drugs. Dealing with depression while abroad had been a huge area of contention between me and my mom. Luckily, with help from Dad convincing her I’d be fine, she’d been more okay with it. And, Dr. Han had thought it would be good for me and we Skyped once a week so she could closely monitor me. Despite the fact that I’d been diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder when I was young, I still struggled with understanding and dealing with it sometimes. I could be okay and then fall into a depressive episode for years and then swing back out and be good for a while. A number of factors played into all kinds of mental disorders and it was hard to say what exactly was the root cause of mine. When it came to telling people about my depression—I didn’t. Unless I had to or felt comfortable enough with another person to divulge that part of myself. I’m usually an upfront and confident type of person but my disorder was a vulnerability. It made me feel weak when I knew I was stronger than that. It made me self-conscious and doubt myself, adding to the cycle of depression and anxiety if I didn’t have careful control over my moods. It was a daily but private and personal struggle, and I didn’t see the point in opening myself up to criticism by people who wouldn’t

understand and didn’t want to. It’s also why I was at a loss as to what to do with my crumbling relationship. I’d been dating Scott for ten months and for the first half, it’d been perfect. I’d felt comfortable enough to tell him, a little, about my disorder. What was weird was that he hadn’t really reacted at all and it’d made me feel like he didn’t care; and that he accepted me for me. I guess I’d taken that for something it wasn’t. I’d been taking the lowest doses possible since my therapy seemed more effective than being drugged all the time. It’d been a huge triumph and I’d credited Scott for some of that. Now, sitting here, I was rethinking everything. Getting verbally beaten down again was getting old, especially when I’d opened up to him. I could admit that managing my depression and everything that came with it could get taxing but I thought we were on the same page. However, I didn’t want to fight again. I reminded myself again of Dr. Han’s mantra of staying positive instead of giving in to the disorder when things got difficult. Like now. “Look, I’m sorry,” I said, trying to be understanding but I also felt like I needed to defend myself. I might have depression but I wasn’t a goddamn doormat either. “I am staying up late to Skype with you, you know—because you asked me and I wanted to do something for you, too. If I had passed out two hours ago like I’d planned, I

wouldn’t have to be up and listening to this… noise.” I gestured with my hand in the direction of Chandler’s room. “So about my surprise…” I forced a smile. “Listen, I just can’t do this right now, Amy,” he said, impatiently. “I need to get to class. Okay?” He raised his eyebrows in a menacing way that conveyed the conversation was over. My disappointment was instant. “Okay. See you. Talk tomorrow?” “Honestly, I don’t know,” he said, not looking at me. “Might be busy. I’ll message you on Facebook. Bye.” He signed off. My heart sank. Something about our conversation didn’t sit right with me. I had been wearing a silk robe the entire time on our Skype call and he hadn’t even asked me about it. He hadn’t even acknowledged the “surprise” I’d mentioned: the black thong and black lace bra I wore underneath. I’d planned on doing a little virtual striptease for him since I knew how much he loved a good performance; but instead, he decided to get all passive aggressive on me. Oh well. His loss. I tried not to let it drag me down but he hadn’t even tried to hide his indifference. It was difficult to not to be hurt by his disinterest, but this was becoming more common and I wasn’t exactly shy about expressing myself. I’d been trying to ignore

his bad attitude, like the comments he made about how I looked or performed in bed, and just tried to be a better girlfriend. I knew the distance wasn’t helping, which was why I tried even harder with these Skype calls, but it was having the opposite effect. I closed my laptop, took off my robe, and got under the covers, still in the lingerie. I hated being in this aroused state. I could take care of myself, but thinking about Scott’s odd behavior put me out of the mood. Maybe I was overreacting to the way Scott had acted. He did have to get to class, and I’d felt off since I’d arrived in Barcelona. For a moment, I heard a lack of creaking coming through our shared wall, and I thought, maybe the rocking would be done and I could get some sleep. And then I heard the moans start up again. After a few minutes, the creaking was so constant that it actually sounded soothing in the way the rhythm went. I stared at the ceiling, and laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. How fucked up was this? I was being lulled to bed by the sex noises of my host brother as I wore lingerie for my boyfriend who hadn’t asked about it. I wasn’t sure if irony was what I was experiencing, or maybe this was payback for some past life of mine. Either way, I couldn’t live like

this. Tomorrow, I would have a chit-chat with Chandler and ask him to keep it down. I wasn’t going to put up with this shit during the two and a half months I would be staying with Doña Maria. Should I take off my lingerie? It felt like a shame to let a good show go to waste. I laid on my back, under the covers, and ran a hand down my stomach. As long as I was riled up, I might as well take care of myself tonight. Orgasms were therapeutic, right? I slipped my panties to the side and put my middle finger on my clit. I closed my eyes and tried to think of Scott. Our fight overtook my consciousness, and my head repeated the words he’d said and the way he’d snapped. Weirdly, thinking of him seemed to dry me up. Damn. I contemplated pulling out my phone and going through my Tumblr app, which was my go-to when I needed a little dirty inspiration. That’s when Chandler’s girl’s screams began to crescendo. She was about to come. Oddly, that turned me on, and I found myself good and wet again. This wasn’t right. I’d never been a voyeur of any kind. Yet my arousal was uncontrollable. “Yes, yes!” she screamed, through through the

walls. “Oh my God!” I leaned back, continuing to finger myself. I ran my finger in my slit, and started to work it inside myself. I pulled off my lingerie bottoms and spread my legs shamelessly. I doubted a guy—a man—like Chandler would ever want a girl like me. I was another girl from the suburbs with brown hair and light brown eyes studying marketing. Even if Chandler did want a girl like me, I could already tell he was bad news. Still, it couldn’t hurt to imagine what he’d feel like inside me. On top of me. Underneath me. I didn’t even know the man, and he already had me so damn wet. I flipped over onto my stomach and bit into my pillow. How would his muscular body feel as he fucked me? Would he have a gentle touch to go along with his massive muscles? The fact that he was a basketball player seemed to indicate he had more finesse than the average jock. Those big hands. Running along my spine. Pulling my hair. How big was he? I couldn’t help but wonder. Even though we’d only had one meeting, it was evident he was cocky as hell. And the way she was screaming in pleasure, it sounded like she was being exorcised of her sex demons. A sexorcism.

On my stomach now, I hooked a finger inside and found the spot I was looking for. This wasn’t right, fingering myself to someone else. No, it’s fine, I told myself. It was just like watching a porno. Or specifically, listening. This was live-listening, action porno. I found a one-two rhythm and pressed inside my walls. “Harder, Chandler,” she moaned. And by the increasing volume of the skin on skin slaps, he evidently obliged her. My pleasure built until it was pounding through every inch of my insides. When I climaxed, the feeling overtook my entire body. My legs trembled. I let out a soft, timid moan. Without even taking my makeup off, I fell asleep in a pool of my own satisfied sweat. In my elated state, the noises next door became less annoying, and simply soothing. Still, Chandler was an asshole. As hot as my session right now had been, I couldn’t put up with this on a nightly basis. Tomorrow, I would have it out with him and set some boundaries of what’s acceptable. And, Chandler wasn’t my type. I never liked the jock types. I was fine with indulging in a fantasy for a night, but I’d never be with anyone who was as much of a manwhore as Chandler.

THREE AMY

I

was tossing and turning for most of the night that when I did finally get some rest, I was thrown into such a slumber that the next morning I slept straight through my 7 a.m. alarm. I woke up at quarter to nine or so and I’d already missed my 8am class. If I hurried, I could make my Tuesday Spanish Lit class at 9:30. Rushing around and all the while swearing at Chandler for his late night activities, I quickly wiggled out of my lingerie, grabbed a towel and padded down the hall to jump in the shower. I rinsed off quickly then turned the water off to shave my legs. My host mom had thoroughly drilled into me the fact that Spain was in a drought, and as a result, we needed to turn the water off for whenever we were doing anything non-shower related.

So, like a good little water conservationist, I turned the water off and applied shaving gel, all the while ruminating and scolding myself like I usually did. If I wasn’t careful, I could head back toward full-on depression mode, negative self-talk and all. Even though I recognized myself-chiding thoughts, I couldn’t stop them. I’d missed class in just my second week and it was all Chandler’s fault. This damn guy. I had only met him for fifteen minutes during breakfast, and yet, he had my blood boiling. Maybe I was just jealous of him and the fact that he actually takes care of his girl. Shouldn’t a guy want to screw his girlfriend for an hour every night? Or at least every once in awhile? Talking about sex with Scott had become a huge area of contention between us—or rather, not talking about what was off lately. I had no problem talking about anything or trying new things in bed but Scott was putting it all on me—shutting me out—and that wasn’t fair. I ground my teeth. Thinking about Scott and Chandler’s good or bad character or bedroom prowess was pointless. I felt powerless in both situations, and it only served to infuriate me more. Suddenly, through the haze of my rumination, I heard water running in the bathroom. Was someone else in the bathroom? My heart beat out of my chest as I peeled the

curtain back and peeked. A broad-shouldered man stood with his boxers pulled half down his ass as he peed. It was quite a nice ass, too. I heard the sound of a solid stream of water running into the toilet. Chandler. Of course asshole roommate would just barge in! Did this guy even knock?! I fumed, getting exasperated that he acted like he owned the place and had zero consideration for anyone else in the apartment! The door was freaking closed! I’m a very nice person until you cross me. And this asshole was about to get a strong dosage of Bitch Amy. Coupled with my disaster call with Scott last night, I was going to let Chandler have it. I opened my mouth, but then I became flustered the more I noticed his—well, all of him. Suddenly, I couldn’t find the right words to say what I wanted to. And he, apparently, didn’t even see me, off in his own little world while he did his business. The thud-thud of my heart went faster as I stared at Chandler. Anger mixed with lust as my eyes scanned his body. He was tall with the broadest shoulders I could ever remember seeing. And oh, dear God, those back muscles. He looked like he was flexing as he leaned one hand on the wall. Was he flexing? Who flexes when they are

just peeing? He yawned and let out a loud, low, throaty noise that was close to a growl. I guess he was probably clearing his throat, but this really sounded like he might be imitating a tiger’s low grumble. Finally, his stream ended. I snapped out of my haze, and found the nerve to say something to this entitled asshole. “Doesn’t anyone knock any more?” I piped up loudly from the shower, my tone seething. He whipped his body around, facing me. I had my angry face on and used the curtain to cover my body while I glared at him. “What the fuck? I did knock. Three times,” he shot back in an accusatory tone. “And I said ‘hola, alguien está?’ Did you not hear me?” My heart dropped to my stomach as I realized that I’d been so far in my own world, I might have not heard him at all. Right about that same moment, my eyes went wide and I couldn’t help but drop them below the Chandler’s waist. I couldn’t look away. I’d seen good ones but my God. This man was blessed by the Almighty Father. And for some reason my eyes lingered on his cock like I was a moth and it was the fire. “My eyes are up here, by the way,” he said, smirking. He pulled his boxers up so I couldn’t see the giant one-eyed snake I had been staring at for too

many seconds. I brought my eyes upward, to the face of the man who’d been the basis of one of my inward distractions in the shower. My anger momentarily melted away as I stared at his dark blue and green eyes, cocky smile, dark hair, and muscles that rippled from head to toe. I think my staring impacted my balance, because I suddenly slipped back, beginning to pull the whole shower curtain down with me, the rings ripping off the rungs holding it up. Chandler saw what was happening and quickly reacted. He jumped toward the shower and grabbed my body through the shower curtain, his huge hands wrapping around my waist and holding me up like I was nothing but a feather. My head was inches from coming into contact with one of the ledges in the shower, and I was breathing hard from all the adrenaline being pumped through my body. I grabbed Chandler’s shoulder for balance. He would have been touching my naked body if not for the thin layer of shower curtain separating us. “Holy shit,” Chandler whispered, his eyes inches from mine and as wide as they could go. “Are you okay?” “Yeah. I’m okay.” I gripped his shoulder for better balance. “Careful. Here, let’s get you back on solid ground.” He lifted me up from the slick shower floor and set me on the plush mat. The shower

curtain had completely torn off, and was wrapped around me. “Thanks,” I breathed, my chest heaving. He glanced inside the shower. “You don’t put the tub mats down?” “Well, usually I do, but I was a little out of it this morning…” I swallowed hard and I’m pretty sure I licked my lips, thinking about what to say. Part of me was intimidated by him and that was rare. But as the adrenaline wore off, and I remembered that I was annoyed with him, I knew I had to set the rules of how things were going to go down in this house if we were going to live peacefully for the next couple of months. I had always been someone who spoke her mind, and there was no reason I should back down from Chandler, as much as he put me on edge. I let go of him and looked him straight in his pretty blue-green eyes. My tone was firm and businesslike. “You know, I usually do put the mats down. But my mind’s been a little funky this morning. I couldn’t fall asleep last night because you and whatever her name is were having extremely loud sex in the room right next to mine.” He opened his mouth, probably to say something to annoy me even more but I cut him off and raised my voice. “And because of you and your late night sexcapades, I couldn’t sleep, and now I missed a

class this morning and will probably be late for my next one. Have some thought for the other people that live here. It’s not ‘Chandler World’ and Doña Maria and I just happen to exist in it. Got it?” I’m sure I looked ridiculous with the shower curtain wrapped around me as I stared up at Chandler. And I do mean stared up, because I’m five foot two, and he was at least a full foot taller than me. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened at my tone. This was the type of man who was used to charming the pants off of any women he met and getting his way. Yes, he was that guy. He needed to know here and now that I wasn’t about to stand for his bullshit. “Damn,” he finally said, blinking slowly at me. “Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you?” “Just did,” I said, keeping the shower curtain securely around me. I eyed the door then him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you would stop gawking and leave so I can finish my shower.” His expression changed again from slightly caught off guard back to a cocky smirk. “Gawking, eh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Fine—go ahead and tell me to keep it down so you can sleep. But if there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s a hypocrite.” I gasped a little in indignation. “A hypocrite?! How am I a hypocrite?” “Look, Squirt. Listen good. I won’t be told that

I can’t gawk at your sexy little body.” He leaned in and lowered his voice to a low throaty tone. “Especially when you just stared at my cock for at least a full five seconds.” A shiver ran through my body. I was both infuriated at how right he was and by how much I needed for him to get the hell out of the bathroom, lest I get more turned on. He turned to go, took a step, and looked over his shoulder. “Leave the shower curtain, Squirt. I’ll fix it when I take a shower later today.” “Why are you calling me Squirt?” I squinted at him. “Yeah. Squirt. That’s your new nickname. You know, a small, short person.” He pointed to the mat. “Better put the mat down next time, Squirt.” He winked, turned back, and continued out the door. “Asshole,” I muttered out loud when he had gone. The man certainly knew how to get my shower curtains in a bunch.

FOUR AMY

I

was distracted all day in class, thinking about what I was going to say to Chandler and how I was going to finally get him to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. Instead of paying attention like I usually did, I just made a list of all the ways I could tell him off. I thought about going the ‘pout to my host parent’ route, but Chandler had already been there for several months before me, and he had earned Doña Maria’s favor. Hell, she called him mi hijo— my son—and treated him like one. He was also the star basketball player for the University of Barcelona’s club team. He had already made lots of local friends, which I hadn’t been able to do yet. I managed to zone back in as the professor kept talking about how Don Quixote was the mother of all satires in the Western Literature cannon. That’s

when I got a sharp poke from Becca, who was also in a study abroad program, but we hadn’t really hung out beyond the classroom. “Amy,” she hissed. She poked my arm again, shocking me out of my day dreaming status. “What?” I stared back at her blankly. “What are you doing tonight?” Her smile was positively devilish. Becca was a Cali girl and looked the part—model tall and thin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Everything she said seemed to take on this drawn out importance. Even going out on a Tuesday. “Need to go to bed early,” I whispered. “I woke up late.” And I needed to make sure I was asleep before my host-brother kept me up all night. “Why?” Becca asked, scrunching her brows. “This is college.” I paused, keeping track of our professor at the front of the room. “I got into a passive aggressive fight on Skype with my boyfriend and then my host brother was up all night making his girlfriend moan against his headboard,” I explained quickly under my breath. I opted to leave out my solo session. She nodded, processing this information but I could tell she wasn’t sure how to take it. “Who is your host brother?” she asked. “I’ve only seen him twice because we have opposite schedules, but he’s a basketball player on the program here, from University of North

Carolina. Chandler. Chandler something…” I trailed off and frowned as Becca’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Meanwhile, I was realizing I knew virtually nothing about my host brother beyond the very basics and only through observation. He and I rarely spoke to each other in the week or so we’d been living together. Most of my intel came from Doña Maria and it was very fragmented since my Spanish still sucked and her English was barely passable. “Get out!” she whispered loudly, on delayed reaction. “Chandler Spiros is your host brother?” “Yeah. Why, you know him?” “Yes I know him!” Becca licked her lips. “I go to UNC with him. He is like the hottest guy on campus. Really good basketball player but it’s what he does off the court that he’s known for.” She leaned towards me, ready to spill more dirt. “He’s got a reputation for being the best ever at—” “Ahem! Chicas?” The professor cocked his head at us with an accusatory eye from the front of the room and cleared his throat. “Lo siento, professor!” Becca belted loudly from the back of the classroom. The man continued droning on in Spanish that I only half understood. I felt slightly bad for ignoring him, but this was the most boring of all the classes I was taking, which was really saying something. Still, I turned my head back toward the front of the room and feigned

attention until Becca poked me again. “The professor answered that pretty well,” she giggled. “Chandler’s got a reputation for chicas. He walks into a room, panties melt. I’ve never seen anyone quite like him. I knew girls in my dorm floor freshmen year who would have killed for just a night with him, to see if the rumors were really true.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. As open as I was, I didn’t want to admit that I’d gotten aroused listening to him last night. Wishing that I could be the one he was giving the experience to. “Rumors? What rumors?” “He’s got a golden tongue. And a golden… something else, too.” I swallowed hard. So my fantasy last night had been right on the money. “Let’s go get fire shots tonight,” she whispered, quietly, changing the subject again. “What are fire shots?” “There is this one bar in Barcelona’s downtown area that serves flaming shots. They literally light them on fire right in front of your face. It’s awesome. A couple of those and you’ll pass out like a baby tonight. Loud Chandler or no.” I hesitated. “I really do need some sleep tonight.” Becca smiled casually and nodded. “C’mon. We can get a little buzzed and practice our

Spanish.” She arched her eyebrows and put the pen in her mouth, waiting for my answer. “It’ll be epic.” I sighed. I hadn’t come to Barcelona to become a Tuesday night party girl. Still, Becca had some good points. I just had one problem. Alcohol was strictly a no-no with my meds. Still, two shots weren’t going to kill me since I’d been lowering the dosages. Right? Shit. I could hear Dr. Han screaming at me from all the way from Chicago. Not to mention my parents. Jesus—having so many people in my head when I’d come here to kick them out, and become more independent, had been a huge motivation for me. I got tired of not thinking for myself and constantly being told what to do, or what not to do. Frankly, it was exhausting. So the idea of no-sleep medication to pass out tonight, not hearing Chandler bang his girlfriend all night, and going out with a possible new friend and seeing the Barcelona nightlife…it was too irresistible. I sure as hell wasn’t going to get any enjoyment with my Skype calls with Scott if he kept being a jerk. “You know what? I think flaming shots would be a perfect way for us to hang out tonight,” I said, meeting her eyes. “You are so on.” “Yes!” Becca said, pumping her first. “Chicas!” the professor shouted again, rolling

his eyes at us. “Sorry professor!” I shot back. The professor sighed, and went back to deconstructing Don Quixote and his horse. Becca and I made eye contact and giggled. I was happy to have found a partner in crime, at least for the night.

SINCE THIS WOULD BE my first night out in Barcelona, I decided to go all out. Late April in Europe was fairly mild but could be a bit chilly. I donned a mini skirt that was maybe a little too short, but one that I could pull off, a fitted top and my long jacket over that. I went a little heavy on the makeup and I even painted my nails sky blue. A check in the mirror verified what I already knew. I was on my sexy game tonight. My brown hair looked extra flowy hanging down to my shoulders. It gave me a nice boost of confidence heading into the night. My fitted top squeezed my almost-C cups together, giving me maximum cleavage. I was definitely going for some free drinks tonight. Before I left, I jumped onto Skype with Scott to say a quick hello. Actually, I was quite feeling optimistic about our call. I reminded myself that he’d been through some tough times with me and that he wasn’t wholly bad. And, I’d never been the

overly sensitive type either and I wasn’t about to start. “Hey babe!” I quipped when he answered, not hiding the fact that I was in one of the first good moods since in the past couple of weeks. “I’m going out tonight. How do I look?!” I mustered up my best imitation of Will Farrell’s Ron Burgundy voice. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m kind of a big deal. I look good.” I backed up from my webcam and did a full three sixty so he could see how hot I looked. “Amy,” he said, unsmiling, his voice grim. “What?” I asked, a little defensively. He paused like he was winding up to say something important. “You are not going out looking like that. You need to change, or just not go out. You look like a fucking porn star.” I laughed. “Hah, thanks. Good one. I know that’s your favorite look.” Scott didn’t match my laugh. In fact, his face grew more serious and even a little angry. I slid back into my seat, incredulous at the possibility that he wasn’t joking. “What is up with you, Scott?” I asked, past annoyed or hurt. “I don’t understand what your problem has been lately.” “I mean,” he said, and raised his voice. “I don’t want you going out on the town looking like a big fucking slut. So change. Or I’m not allowing you to go out.”

My anger shot up at those words. “Did you just say not allowing me to go out?” “Exactly.” He crossed his arms on the screen. I was so infuriated my eyes welled up. I held back the tears. “Why are you acting like this?” My voice was quiet and direct. “What’s gotten into you?” “Nothing, I’m perfectly fine,” he shot back, defensive as hell. “But I am wondering if maybe you’re off your meds. Even when you’re on them, you can be all over the place but maybe moving to Barcelona wasn’t your best idea, Amy.” I stared at him, speechless. For him to continually use my depression as some sort of attack to degrade me was the final straw. Not to mention his constant remarks about my body and him wanting me to look a certain way. It was just too much and it wasn’t fair. I was finally done with making up excuses for why our relationship was fucked up, and shouldering the majority of the blame. I tried to think of what to say to him, but my mind drew a blank. Scott, however, wasn’t done. Oh, no, he was on a roll tonight. “Amy, I’m not going to sit here like an idiot back home while you’re running around the city of Barcelona like some whore, dressed like that.” How he equated me feeling good, looking good and going out as being a slut and a whore stunned

me. Scott had said some pretty shocking things to me in the past but this took the cake. I swallowed, trying to control my emotions but my heart began to beat faster. I lowered my eyes, not looking at Scott for a moment. “This is it, isn’t it?” I raised my head gradually until my eyes met his on the screen. “This is the end.” That completely threw him. “Wh-what? I didn’t mean it like that,” he backtracked. “Well, then tell me, what the hell did you mean?” I demanded, almost shouting. “You just called me a slut. A whore. You’re trying to control me from two thousand miles away. Yes, I am going out, having a good time and learning some Spanish tonight. What’s wrong with that?” “That’s not what I meant. You’re taking my words out of context.” I glared at him. I knew exactly what he meant. He thought I was out to hook up with guys just because I dressed up. Unbelievable! I had never cheated on a guy. Cheaters were the worst. “You know what they say about trust, Scott?” I asked, calmly. He scoffed. “No, I don’t. Enlighten me oh wise woman.” His tone was mocking. “If you can’t trust, you can’t be trusted.” He gave a scornful laugh. “Never heard that.” “Well, I guess you need to listen to more Ben Folds.”

“Ben who?” he asked, brows furrowing. I took a deep breath and sat up straight. I looked directly into the webcam, and spoke clearly so Scott could hear every word I was about to say. “Forget Ben Folds. Whatever it is, this relationship isn’t going to work out, and it hasn’t for a while, has it?” I let the words hang in the air. When Scott didn’t respond, I knew it was the best decision I’d ever made in regards to this relationship. There was no sense dragging this one out. For the both of us. “Goodbye Scott.” “Wait wait wait!” he yelled before I could shut my laptop. “What?” I said impersonally, raising an eyebrow. “Are we really… You know, broken up?” I laughed. “I think we both knew this relationship was going to be tough to keep up long distance. You just sealed the deal, though. If you didn’t get it from what I just said, yes, we are officially over.” “Amy wait…you actually do look kinda hot tonight.” That was the first complement I’d received from Scott in months—and he only told me after I’d dumped him. I gladly shut my laptop with a hard thud, almost laughing at how pathetic he was. It nearly canceled out the disgust I had for him, at

myself for sticking with him and, again, making up excuses for letting him treat me like shit. Even though I knew it was for the best, and should have done it months ago, I still felt crappy about it. At the same time, a sense of hope began to spread over me that I hadn’t expected. I felt relieved and free. Those days of not having someone pick away at my confidence and making me feel bad about myself were over. It felt like a proverbial weight had been lifted off me. I’d been afraid of that uncomfortable conversation, but you know what? Freedom felt freaking good. I grabbed my purse and headed out the apartment with a smile on my face. Flaming shots, here we come.

FIVE AMY

I

met up with Becca near Las Ramblas in downtown Barcelona. She was dressed in a tight bright dress and flats. She led us through the narrow, gothic streets of the city, which were packed with tourists and locals alike. The night air was cool, but I stood by my decision to wear a short skirt. The streets were lined with shops, restaurants and bars; performers in outrageous costumes tried to gain favor of passersby, and maybe a Euro or two. It seemed Becca wasn’t the only one that felt Tuesday nights were meant for revelry. While I was still getting my bearings, it seemed my new friend had a comfortable lay of the land. After a half hour or so of walking, we arrived at the legendary Fire Shots bar. The line to get in was long, at least 20 or so people waiting.

“They have like a hundred different shots with really cool names,” Becca said as we stood in line. “Like, The Destructor or, The Last Shot You’ll Ever Take.” “In English?” I asked. “Yes.” She gave a small laugh. “It’s a little touristy and they cater to English speakers—why?” I shook my head. “Just curious. Since I’m here, I kind of want to learn Spanish when I go out. Really immerse myself in the cultural experience…” Becca just gave me a look. Right. I was being too serious. “Well, do they at least have a dance floor?” Becca’s eyes lit up. “Yeah girl! They have a really big one in the back. Do you like to dance?” “Uh, yeah!” I exclaimed, feeling even better about tonight. “I was listening to Enrique Iglesias and practicing my dance moves in my room before I met up with you.” I didn’t add the fact that right afterwards, I dumped my douchy ex. “It’s always helped me with my mood. It’s my version of meditation.” “Get out!” Becca turned to me. “You’re a home dancer, too?” “Oh yeah,” I said, laughing. “I dance wherever I can. At home when my host family is out, in my room, in the shower…” I stopped short. “Well, I haven’t danced in the shower yet in Spain.” Becca broke out into singing ‘Hips Don’t Lie’

by Shakira, and I joined her in rocking some killer dance moves in line. A few people ahead of us opened up some space for us, enjoying the impromptu show we were putting on. People were actually starting to clap a little bit, when I noticed a very tall, very sexy man walked by us. I lost my dance rhythm as I realized who it was. Chandler breezed past the line and went straight to the bouncer. He was with a couple of freakishly tall people. One of the guys had to be at least seven feet. His basketball buddies, I imagined. The bouncer waved through Chandler and his entourage ahead of everyone else in the line. “Hey, what’s up with that?!” I yelled from ten feet back where I had been waiting. “No cuts!” And if anyone was getting to cut this line, it should have been me and my short skirt in this chilly weather, not my asshole roommate. Chandler turned his head in my direction, his eyes searching until they landed on me. His face lit up with a smile. “Oh hey, Squirt, what’s up?!” Becca shot me a confused look. “Did he just call you Squirt?” “Long story,” I said to her before turning back to Chandler. “Hey what’s up, yourself! You can’t just jump the line like that. Help us out!” “I didn’t know you went out to bars, Squirt!” he yelled back, ignoring my question. “I thought you

were just gonna Skype with your boyfriend in your room like a good little girl the whole time you were in Barcelona!” My jaw dropped at his declaration, and those in line who understood English, openly snickered at me. The man was an asshole, plain and simple. I chided myself for having ever fantasized about him. But it also wasn’t lost on me that he had been observing my relationship status. I thought he barely knew I existed, let alone knew anything or cared about my romantic life. “Well now, I don’t think that’s any of your business, is it?” He shrugged, gave the bouncer a first pound, and continued inside. Becca stared at me. “Still waiting for the Squirt explanation. That’s a hell of a nickname.” I sighed. “Let’s wait until after the first shot for me to explain.” We didn’t see Chandler inside, but I didn’t much care. I had just dumped one asshole, and the point of tonight was for Becca and I to hang out and have fun—not for me to be made fun of some more. So I was okay with not seeing another asshole. Even though I wouldn’t mind catching another glimpse of those eyes of his. Loud Spanish music played as we pushed through the packed crowds and found a spot at the

bar. After we sat down and reviewed the drink menu, Becca ordered for us in English. I’d settled on the Rut Jumper shot, which was some combination of tequila and another liquor. Becca got something called The Man Finder. “Barcelona got you down?” Becca joked, watching the bartender make her drink. “Need to get out of a rut?” “I’ll settle in soon. It’s barely been a couple of weeks.” I frowned. “I don’t know, I’ve just been in a weird place since I got here. Although to be fair, I’ve felt off this whole school year for some reason, even back in Chicago. How about you? Still trying to find that special guy?” Becca tossed her long blonde hair and spoke with that California confidence she carried all too well. “I am single and ready to mingle.” Before the bartender handed us our shots, he blew out the flames in them. I looked at him, confused. “That’s it? I thought we’d take the flaming shots.” He laughed. “No, no. Of course not. Just flames before. Too hot for your mouth with fire. You get burned.” I shrugged. We clinked our glasses together, then flung the liquid back. It went down surprisingly smooth. “Okay, shot taken.” Becca slammed her shot glass on the bar, her grin devilish. “Now tell me

why Chandler Spiros calls you Squirt.” I gave Becca the full rundown of our chance shower encounter this morning. She nodded in her casual way, seeming a little surprised, but mostly unfazed. “That’s pretty hot. So…” She trailed off and pursed lips briefly. “Oh, never mind.” “What were you going to say?” “I was going to ask if you and him might hook up. But it doesn’t matter anyways because you have a boyfriend.” “Actually, I don’t,” I admitted. “Not anymore.” She gasped. “You don’t? But Chandler just said you did. Was he lying?” “No, he wasn’t. I’ve Skyped with my boyfriend —well, now ex-boyfriend, Scott—every night since I got here. But I broke up with him right before I came here tonight.” “Oh my gosh. Now the Rut Jumper shot makes sense! Was it you or him?” Internally, I sighed. That was always the question when it came to my relationships. I went for a diplomatic answer. Not that I cared if she knew why exactly, but I didn’t feel like getting into the long answer in the middle of a loud bar. As much as I liked Becca, I wasn’t about to delve into my depression issues. Tonight was supposed to be for positive thinking, not dwelling on my own shortcomings. “Let’s just say…a combination of

both of us. It’s for the best.” Thankfully, Becca didn’t push for details. “So you’re back on the market as of tonight?! Look out, boys!” she belted toward the crowd, and a few men turned around, including Chandler before he turned back to his friends. “This one’s single and ready—” “No no no,” I told her, trying to get her to stop. “I am not about to jump right back out there. I’m going to wait it out. See how it goes. I’ll definitely be hitting the dance floor to blow off some steam, though.” For the rest of the night, Becca and I had a fantastic time getting to know each other sitting at the bar while we fended off a fair amount of men who tried to talk to us. We just weren't in the mood yet for that. It was a girls’ night. "I'll be right back," I said. "I'm going to head to the bathroom. Watch my purse?" She nodded and I headed to the back of the bar to find the bathroom. Even though I’d refrained from having as many shots as Becca and downing water just as fast, I was decently tipsy. I may or may not have swayed a little bit on the way to the bathroom. I'm not sure if that was what tipped off the creepiest guy in the universe, but I didn’t even make it the bathroom door when a shorter man, with dark balding hair and black eyes, cornered me almost instantly.

"Mi amor. Hello pretty girl," he said with a strong Spanish accent. The way he stood, there was nowhere for me to go but through him to get to the ladies’ room. "Hola!” I answered and tried to breeze past him. He grabbed my arm, and instinctually I slapped him in the face. "Owww!" he yelled. "What is your problema, chica?" He spoke in a sinister tone. My heart began to thump intensely because his grip hadn’t loosened and it was starting to hurt. We were also in the back of the hallway, all alone. Not good. “I just want to be your friend,” he added, in the same strange accent. "Let go!" I screamed. He laughed and said something in Spanish to me I didn't understand. It was still empty out here, loud music reverberating through the bar. The creep’s eyes shifted off me when someone came out of the other bathroom from behind me. "Hey. Amigo." There was no mistaking the deep tambour of the voice speaking over my head. His voice had the same pitch as when we’d argued this morning in the bathroom. I looked over at him, still scared but mostly glad to see a familiar face. The Spaniard spoke in rapid-fire Spanish to Chandler, who looked as if he could explode at any moment. I couldn't understand what the Spanish man said, but even with my rudimentary linguistic

skills I knew what Chandler had told him. "Es mi hermana." That's my sister. When he said those words, the man's grasp instantly loosened, and he backed away with his hands raised in the air in an apologetic manner. I didn’t blame him. Chandler had a large, muscular frame and an intimidating look. His jaw flexed and his eyes were intense. He looked as though he wouldn’t mind a scuffle, which would likely involve this creepy Spaniard getting beat to a pulp. "I didn't know. I didn't know. I’m sorry," the man said, still holding his hands up. Chandler mean-mugged him as he walked away. "You okay, Squirt?" he asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. I was a little surprised by the tone of genuine concern his voice had taken on. My heart was stilling thumping like mad, and I felt all of my senses suddenly on edge as adrenaline coursed through me. “I’m okay.” "You're shaking." He put his other hand on my shoulder in an attempt to steady me. "No, I'm not shaking,” I argued, stubbornly. "Squirt. A sexy as hell girl like you in a seedy bar like this? You gotta watch out. The guys are gonna be all over you. You look hot as fuck tonight," he said, so calmly and earnestly. When Chandler said it, even I believed it was a widely

accepted fact that I was hot. "They are?" I looked up at him, uncertain. The club was dark, but there was a bit of light that flashed on his face so I could see his totally gorgeous dimples as he laughed again, the kind of big laugh that came from his belly. "Oh please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don't try and pretend you don’t know how hot you are. You're a regular matahombre, Squirt." "A…what?" "Matahombre,” he repeated. “You knock guys dead.” When I didn’t respond, he sighed and dropped his hands from me. “Man, I need to teach you some Spanish, don't I?" I swallowed as I stared at him. In our third encounter, he’d already dished me out two separate compliments. But who was counting? Scott had been as stingy with compliments as Scrooge McDuck was with his dollars. “Yes. You should teach me.” I could think of some other things I’d like for Chandler to teach me, aside from Spanish. But then I remembered that Chandler was an asshole. "Let's head to the bar.” He moved aside. “I know just the shot for us." “Um, I have to use the bathroom first.” “I’ll wait here while you use el baño.” He smiled. “I’m starting you off slow with Spanish words, Squirt.”

I really hated that nickname, but I turned away only mildly irritated since he did save me from that Spanish creep. Worse, I checked myself out in the mirror to make sure my hair was still looking good and that my makeup wasn’t running. Why did I kind of like Chandler despite the fact that he could probably be diagnosed with textbook narcissist disorder? After I came out of the bathroom, I followed Chandler out toward the bar. He waved at his basketball friends to come over to us since they had been in a different area of the bar. I introduced them to Becca, who was thrilled to meet some tall guys since she was over six feet and taller than the majority of the guys here. The other players with him were even taller than Chandler, which was saying something since he was around six foot three. Tall as they all were, they seemed to defer to him like he was the leader of their international crew. Becca gave me a look, and I shot her a nod back, indicating that she should go for it with these guys. I wasn't trying to hook up with any of them— hell, it was less than a few hours ago that I had broken up with my boyfriend. I wasn’t even ready for a rebound yet. The guys quickly took a shine to Becca, chatting with her and leaving Chandler and me off to the side on our own. He ordered us two shots, pushing one towards me and taking the other.

"To Dirty Sweet Girls," Chandler said, toasting Becca and me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he looked off for a second then glanced back down at me. “This is my favorite shot. It’s got a little pineapple juice, Amaretto, and Baileys.” "Pineapple juice, eh?” I reversed my earlier decision about having had too many shots. “Seems like a weird addition to this drink," I noted, going for polite observation over flat out snark. Also, I knew I really shouldn’t drink any more. But damn him, he winked at me. “It’s the most important ingredient, trust me,” he added, touching me on my waist. It was light, so brief, but it had my brain cells go haywire. More precisely, in the gutter. “If you say so,” I said as I raised my shot glass to his. “Believe me, Squirt, you’ll like it,” he coaxed, then tossed his back. I did the same. Surprisingly, the Dirty Sweet Girl was actually quite delicious. I set my glass down. “Not gonna lie, that was an interesting combination,” I admitted. “Goes down smooth but there is some bite to it.” “Told you, it’s easily my favorite,” he returned, with a smile but watching me too closely, like he thought I’d react different. I couldn’t tell if he was fucking with me and making me try something really weird for no reason, just to gauge my reaction to all of this. I kept my mouth shut. No

matter what, I wasn’t going to step up my flirty game with him. Maybe he was being nice to me now, but his cockiness was still annoying. Plus, he had a girlfriend. I couldn’t help but wonder what Chandler’s shot would be, though. The DSG perfectly described me, but what would be his? The Baller? No, he was too laid back. The Smiling Dog? Chandler did always seem to have a cocky smile plastered on his face. But that’s when I saw it on the chalkboard menu behind the bar. The Bad Decision. Yep. That’s definitely what he was. But not one that I was going to make. “Want to get another one?” I asked. “This chupito is on me.” Chandler smiled. “Dropping the Spanish word for shot like it ain’t no thing. I like it, Squirt. How could I turn that offer down?” I bit my lip, unsure if this was a genuine or patronizing complement. I turned toward the bartender, and ordered, “Two Bad Decisions, please.” I felt Chandler’s hand on the small of my back, and he turned my body slightly toward his. “I like your style,” he said. Although I was shocked at feeling his hand there, like before, I didn’t hate it.

I liked it a lot. I felt a buzz course through me, and I couldn’t figure out if it was from Chandler’s presence or the booze. Probably both. When his hand fell off me, I told myself that the pang of disappointment was nothing. Nothing at all. As we each took our Bad Decision shot down, Chandler didn’t take his eyes off mine the whole time. *** Two hours later, Becca and I had a nice buzz going (definitely alcohol related this time), and the endorphins were flowing. After a spell of dancing, we huddled around the tall guys, who were gesturing wildly, telling hilarious basketball stories that made fun of each other. I was impressed with how coherent their stories still were after the amount of shots we’d taken. Then again, they were all twice our mass. “So Chandler bets me that he can dunk over my head,” said the one with a hilariously thick French accent. “I didn’t believe this Greek asshole could be so good for being so short." His buddies were cocky like Chandler. But most of it was in an easygoing, a-good-ribbing-will-keepus-tough kind of way. "Jesus, if he's short, I’m a midget,” I piped up. “Hey, what is your ethnic background anyway?” I lobbed the question at Chandler, still curious. “I partly guessed Greek—and Italian, maybe?”

He looked at me with a serious expression, which was surprising since we were many drinks in, but also because I’d never seen Chandler uncomfortable or unsmiling. “My mom is Spanish and Greek, so you’re close,” he said, his voice flat. “As for my dad? I have no fucking clue.” I nodded, not having meant to broach a touchy subject. The guys all kind of looked down or away, like they had heard this story before and knew it wasn’t something Chandler wanted to talk about. That’s probably why I was interested in knowing those details. I made a mental note to ask him about his father at some later time, when we were alone. A strange tension hung in the air for a moment, until Becca shrugged and broke the silence. “My family is from California, and my great-great grandmother, well, she was literally a prostitute during the Gold Rush. She was one of the original gold diggers. Get it?” We all chuckled and the awkwardness disappeared. The group was back to its easy vibe before I’d ruined it with my stupid question. Somehow, Chandler got even more charming in my eyes—but I knew the booze was helping. A little. Mostly, I was just glad Becca had convinced me to come out. I’d needed this and I felt like the cloud over my head the past two weeks was finally fading away. Chandler’s friendliness eased my guard and I

felt myself relax around him. Aside from being a bad decision waiting to happen, I swore his face lit up every time he talked or touched me, and mine did too, in turn. I wondered if my Dr. Han could prescribe me a daily dose of Chandler instead of my pills. When you go months without having actual fun, and finally go out and have a great time, you don’t want the night to end. Still, it was time to leave, and the lights of the bar were starting to turn on. After we took our last shots, I had to admit, I was starting to feel a few degrees past “just tipsy” on the drunk spectrum. Since Chandler and I were headed to the same place, we said goodbye to Becca and his friends. He hailed us a cab, held the door open for me while I got in, then slid in next to me. Before giving the driver our address, he turned to me. “You want to go home?” he asked. I wiggled my eyebrows. “You want to stay out? It’s late.” “The night is young in Spain.” “Well,” I said, giving it half a thought. “I do have class tomorrow. Spanish Lit.” Chandler laughed. “Oh yeah, how’s Don Quixote coming? Did you finish it yet?” “Shut up,” I groused. “It’s like three thousand pages.” “So do you think it would be a bad decision to

go to a late night salsa bar I know of?” He arched an eyebrow my way. Little did he know, he’d just said the magic words. Dancing was my Achilles’ heal and anyone that could actually salsa rose up in esteem but… Chandler? Salsa? I almost laughed out loud. “You know how to salsa dance?” I asked, dubious. He gave me a slightly offended look. “I’ll blow your mind,” he said in a flirty voice. I set the challenge. “Prove it.” Chandler smiled. “I will. Tonight.” “How do you even know how to salsa?” I asked. “It’s a great way to meet girls.” I rolled my eyes. Chandler’s motivations were beginning to become rather apparent. At least he was honest. “And, dancing late at night helps me to not be so hung over the next day for basketball practice,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “It gets the alcohol out of your system.” I feigned that I was thinking hard to make this decision. However, there was no way was I turning down an opportunity to go out and dance more. Not tonight. He looked at his watch as our driver cleared his throat and made a gesture for us to make up our minds, tapping the meter, which was running. “It’s

two a.m. right now. Salsa goes until four. You ready to work up a sweat?” “I guess…why not,” I said, putting up some resistance. I didn’t want to show my hand. “Let’s go.”

SIX AMY

T

he man wasn’t lying. He could dance so well, I questioned whether he might be gay. “That’s an unfair stereotype,” he shot back. “Some straight guys can totally dance, too. Especially when they have Spanish blood.” Normally, I had to take the lead on the dance floor; but finally, here was a man who seemed to always be one step ahead of me. His body was big compared to mine, but the man could move. After an hour of me enjoying every minute I had to get close to his rock hard body, we took a break and headed to the bar. “Two waters,” Chandler ordered. “Good call,” I said. I felt dehydrated not only from dancing but from all the alcohol I’d drunk earlier. We were both sweaty, as promised, but we

were both having a really great time. He’d kept the flirting to a minimum but hadn’t made a move on me while out on the floor, where he was all about nothing but dancing and making sure I felt comfortable. That surprised me but, of course, Chandler was a suave one, that much I knew. “You feel like a quick bite to eat after here?” I wasn’t sure of the time but it was getting pretty late. “Where?” I asked. “I know a great seafood place by the marina,” he said, eying me. “Open all night.” But I was already shaking my head. “No can do,” I said. “I’m allergic to seafood—shellfish, of any kind. But I tend to just avoid all seafood as a precaution since a lot of places aren’t careful about keeping types of seafood separated and my family doctor told me to be extra careful while I’m abroad.” Especially late night seafood places, I thought. I never knew if they were cooking my ‘seafood free’ meal on the same grill they cooked everything else. Now he was staring at me. “Oh, shit. That sucks.” “Yeah…” I said, and tapped my party purse. “No big deal. I always keep an Epi pen on me, just in case.” “Have you, ah, ever had to use it?” he asked, suddenly uncomfortable. “Just a couple times since I was a kid,” I

answered. He frowned. “Does Maria know about this?” I had to smile at his serious response. “Of course. Why do think she never makes seafood when we live near the water?” I could see the wheels in his head turning. “Huh,” he said, drinking his water. “Good to know…” As I took a swig of the ice water, I remembered something that had been bothering me all night, that I had somehow forced to the back of my mind. “Hey Chandler,” I said, then paused. Yes, I needed to know the answer even though it might give away my position on the matter. "Where's your screaming girlfriend?" He laughed. “Funny you ask. I saw her making out with some guy at the bar tonight. And I ended things." He shook his head. “She also wasn’t my girlfriend. We were just dating, having fun. It was a casual thing, but I hate cheaters.” “That happened tonight? Just like that?” I asked, shocked. But I agreed with Chandler when it came to cheaters. “Right before I went into the hallway and saw that creepy dude hitting on you.” We each took another swig of our water and our eyes met. “You called me a matahombre before,” I said, mulling things over. “A man-eater. But you're a

lady killer." He tried to deny it. "I've dated a few girls, sure—" "Stop being coy,” I said, not buying his bull. “Doña Maria even talked about how you have muchas chicas. What’s that about?” His expression softened slightly. "Didn’t think you caught it when she said that. Look, I'm twentyone and I'm enjoying myself,” he admitted, not defensively or apologetically. I let out a sigh. “No shame in that, I suppose." He eyed me sharply. “What about you and your boyfriend?” “Yeah. What about me?” “I heard you yelling,” he said, looking away and raising his cup to his lips. “In your room. I’d just gotten home from practice…” “You heard that?” I asked, clearing my throat and kind of embarrassed. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I just heard the end of it, I think. And the words ‘we are officially over’. That, with what I heard Becca yell at the bar, makes me think you’re single now. Like me.” A really terrible idea cropped in my head. The numerous shots did what my Prozac and Xanax usually did: kept me in the kind of dull haze that made me react slow or not at all. Who was I kidding about where this was going? I was out late dancing with the sexiest man I’d ever seen in the

flesh, and now we were both conveniently single all of the sudden. It was too good to be true. “Amelita—” "We can't hook up," I blurted out. As soon as the words were out, I had to remember to breathe properly. "What? Where did that come from?" he asked, perplexed. I felt my face get warm at the possibility that he’d had no thoughts about hooking up with me like I had. "What I mean is that I want to have a friend here,” I continued, deciding to let the thoughts in my head roll off my tongue. If this went to shit, I’d blame that on the alcohol, too. “And, yeah, I did just get out of a long, crappy relationship. And you're hot. Really hot.” "Uh, okay," Chandler replied, fighting back a grin. "Thanks. You’re hot, too.” He leaned in. “Very hot.” He’d whispered very hot in my ear, and then leaned back with a smirk. “But I don’t see your point about not hooking up.” I took a deep breath, brain on delay. The way he said very sent a chain reaction of butterflies through my body. They began at my neck and my throat, and traveled their way past my chest before landing square between my legs. Yeah, I needed to stop this right now. "We need to make a pact,” I said suddenly,

determined. “We don't hook up. We'll just be friends. Nothing more." Chandler laughed hard, from the belly again. “You’re hilarious. Why don’t we just, you know, see where things go? Not put expectations and labels on things.” The guy was damn good. But just looking at him, I could tell he was one of the guys who girls never said ‘no’ to and I was not about to be another one of his casual girls. Casual just wasn’t my style. Either he was in or he was out. I shook my head at him. “I’m serious. I can see right through your little ‘no expectations’ crap. I think we do need expectations. Specifically, we need the expectation that you and I will be study abroad friends and nothing more. I’m not going to be another one of your muchas chicas.” His jaw dropped. "Are you…friend zoning me?" he asked, his voice taking on a tone of complete disbelief. Now it was my turn to laugh. “That's never happened to you before, huh?" He stared at me, not answering my question. But the way he smirked and chuckled, I was pretty sure this situation was going to be a first for him. Even I was thinking I might be crazy for wanting to do this, but then again, it was for the best. For a number of reasons. Chandler liked things simple, that much I’d gathered. I was nothing but

complications. “You know, you’re right,” he finally answered. “I am?” I asked, surprised. I watched his face for signs of deception or mockery at my suggestion. To his credit, he actually seemed to be considering my words with thought. “Yes,” he said, smiling. “And to be honest, I’ve screwed up so many friendships already in the first couple of months here with girls; I think this pact has merit. That way, we can go out, and we don’t have to worry about any awkward romantic tension between us. Have real conversations and just have fun.” I scrunched my face up at him. For as cocky of a guy as he was, I thought he’d just try to prove me wrong for no reason like Scott always had, just to be contradictory. “That’s rather ominous—just how many girls have you screwed up friendships with by screwing them?” He shook his head. “Enough to know that this is a good idea. I’ve had a great time tonight, just hanging out, and you like dancing as much as I do. I’d like to be able to get to know you more without, you know, sex hanging over us.” I focused my gaze for a moment and sort of stared at the water glasses on the bar. That had been too easy. I looked at the sexy beast in front of me. He was so relaxed and agreeable. I was getting what I wanted, which had been the point and yet,

now I was not entirely happy about it. He drained the rest of his water as I watched him like a weirdo. Fascinated by the way his throat worked, his strong profile, the way the muscles moved under his olive skin. How his basic man uniform of jeans and a short-sleeved tee fit his lean body. And those eyelashes—I knew women who would kill for them. “All right,” I finally said, trying to distract myself. “Let’s shake on it.” He held out his hand before I could. “And besides, we're host-siblings anyway. We can't hook up. That'd be way weird." “Yeah. Way weird,” I parroted. I couldn’t tell if he was just making fun of me again, going along with my idea as a sort of reverse psychology, or if he really did want to be friends but we shook hands. "Seal it with blood," he belted. "With blood?" I asked, dryly. "Just kidding." He winked. "You, Chandler Spiros, are officially friendzoned." “Likewise.” He finished off his water, glancing around the floor and the other dancers. I took a drink of my own water, hoping that’d cool me off. I still wasn’t entirely sure why he went along with my crazy pact. Maybe he didn’t find me that fuckable, and I was easy to resist? That

possibility brought me down a notch, especially after my farewell to Scott. However, I told myself that right now, I needed to be focused on my studies and living in a foreign country, and getting the full experience. The last thing I needed was an incredibly sexy, six foot three distraction who slept on the other side of the wall, not even three feet from me. Chandler broke up my thoughts, holding his hand out to me. “You want to get back on the dance floor and keep it going?” I stared at his hand, then took it. Somehow, his touch felt different. Better, and wrong, too. I plastered on a smile. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Amigo.”

SEVEN CHANDLER

“M

ore wine, hijo?” Doña Maria had called me son since day one of my arrival in Barcelona three months ago, and I didn’t hate it. Especially when she was offering me more wine, which she often did. She was in her late thirties, single, and worked in an office. She had a few odd strands of grey appeared within her mostly black mane that she didn’t bother dying and still had it going on. “Claro, Mamá,” I answered, handing my glass to her. I mean, more wine, is that even a question? Especially on Wednesday night—which was telenovela night. Since it was always my early practice day for basketball, we caught the new episode of Victorinos at 8 p.m. without fail. It had kind of been our little thing.

Maria settled back in her spot on the other side of the couch and jarred me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the TV, seeing the show had already started. Surprisingly, I’d actually learned a lot of Spanish watching telenovelas and Doña Maria correcting me. It was good practice for me and I was participating in Spanish culture: there was nothing manlier than hanging out with your mother. Besides, Doña Maria’s wine rack had been piling up for what must have been years before I arrived in January, so I’d made it my personal mission to put a dent in it before I left in June. “Salud.” I smiled her way before we clinked glasses. This week’s episode of Victorinos was just beginning, so we were getting caught up on the backstory from last week. Basically, there were three different guys, all named Victorino, and every episode was about how their lives intertwined in ways they couldn’t even see or notice, kind of like Crash or something, but more corny. I knew the backstory of Victorinos in and out. Once you got into it, it got addicting. By now, I was a bonafide expert on this show. The first scene began with Victorino number one and his girlfriend, Amelia. “Mira!” Doña Maria pointed out. “Es Amelia. Amelita.” Holy fucking shit, she was right. Victorino

number one’s girlfriend bore a shocking resemblance to Amy. Or Amelita—little Amy—as Doña Maria liked to say. Fucking A. I’d spent the entire day—from classes to practice—trying not to think of Amy’s sexy self after dancing into the wee hours with her last night. Yet, somehow, she’d found her way into my consciousness again. “Amy es muy bonita,” Maria said again, using Amy’s English name, probably to make sure I understood because I hadn’t replied. I glanced over at Doña Maria and nodded in agreement to show her that yes, I got it, and yes, Amy was fucking gorgeous—the real Amy. And guess who has two thumbs and agreed to be ‘just friends’ with her? This guy. The “friend pact” was a silly, drunken idea. Yet I’d gone along with it. My logical brain kept telling me that the pact actually had some benefits. Wouldn’t it be nice to live with someone through June and not have everything go downhill? All my female friendships seemed to go awry as soon as we fucked. Wouldn’t it be a good thing not to have that awkward, ‘Oh we just hooked up… now what is this exactly?’ tension in the air? Score: Brain, 1; Penis, 0. See? In spite of my general ludicrousness, I can reason when I have to. Of course, my cock was telling me something

else entirely. Beautiful…girl…must…pursue her, he said. It was like that Seinfeld episode where Jerry’s penis plays chess against his brain. I had seen Amy naked for God’s sake! She’d had no clue the curtain was transparent and the floral pattern over it hid very little to my imagination. I knew exactly what she was working with. Or, better yet, I knew what I would be working with when I worked her. Since our shower encounter, getting her voluptuous figure out of my brain had been damn near impossible. She was forever firmly placed in my favorite spank bank memories of all time. She went straight to the Chandler Spiros spank bank Hall of Fame. All day, I’d been fighting random boners that continued popping up when Amy popped in my head. I imagined working my fingers from her calves, up to those luscious thighs of hers and beyond. And honestly, who could blame me? It was hard not to get hard thinking about Amy’s lush, curvy figure, her thick, long brown hair, but especially those eyes. There was something about them that just hypnotized me. Yes, Chandler, fuck me, they said. I wondered how those beautiful brown things would look as they fluttered while I went down on her. And I didn’t care if that made me a creep. Any man with a pulse would be thinking the same thing when they saw Amy. I

guaran-fucking-teed it. Score: Brain, 1; Penis, 1. Unfortunately for my brain, the tie-breakers always went to my cock. I had to have Amy, and I knew it. That’s just how I functioned, always have. So she wanted to become a challenge for me? She wanted to put me in the friend zone and make me agree to some ridiculous agreement? Chandler Spiros gets put in the fuck zone, not the friend zone. Amy could talk about the friend zone all she wanted. Her words were empty when I saw how badly her body shook, and her lips quivered in my presence. The instant I saw her, I knew I would have her. This pact of ours would soon be dust. A thought gnawed on me though. I’d already concluded that she was one of those girls that had no clue she was hot, which made her even hotter. There was a subtle difference between girls who knew and those that didn’t. It made everything they said and did that much more alluring and effortless because they weren’t trying to attract you, then catch you. I specifically went after girls who weren’t like Amy on purpose. Those girls knew where we stood at all times. No feelings had to be hurt, just a good time for a little while and then move on our separate ways. Thing with Amy was that I’d actually liked just

being around her. Like going out dancing, and the fact that she had absolutely no filter. I wasn’t quite sure what kept me so focused on her. Not just as a challenge for the sake of a challenge because I definitely wanted to hook up—but I also wanted something else from her. I just wasn’t sure what exactly and I couldn’t get her out of my head. While I brainstormed ways to get into Amy’s pants, I took a strong pull on my wine and tried to get back to watching Victorinos. Of course, when I spaced back in, I noticed Doña Maria was watching me intently, noticing my lack of attention to the show this week. “Estás bien, mi hijo?” she asked, her tone of genuine concern. “Are you okay?” “Oh, sí, estoy bien. Estoy muy bien,” I said, emphasizing the muy. Yep, all good! Nothing to see here. C’mon Maria, let’s just watch the show and drink our wine. Not like I’m coming up with every possible way I can break down my host sister’s defenses or anything like that. She didn’t look away from me, though. It was like the woman had a ‘Chandler is up to no good’ detector. She nodded toward Amelia on the screen, took another sip of her wine, and added the words that made me question if she also read minds. “Sí. Amy es muy bonita. Muy bonita.” This time, it was Maria who emphasized the muy—twice. How she knew I’d been thinking about Amy was disturbing.

“Sólo amigos,” I added. Just friends, thanks to that damn pact. “Ohhhh,” she said. She smiled slyly, and nodded over-enthusiastically. “Okay. Amigos.” Her tone was sarcastic. She took a sip of her wine and winked at me. There was nothing quite like trying to dodge a woman’s intuition. I’d tried it with my mom, and it had never once worked. She always knew what shenanigans I was up to in high school. Well, shit, my hometown in rural Indiana was so tiny I could barely piss without people knowing. I decided I would shut up and try again to get back to the telenovela. Just when I was starting to finally get into the episode again, the locks on the door clinked and guess who fucking walked in the door? “Hola! Amelita!” Doña Maria said, with that warm smile of hers. “Hola Maria!” she sung in a high-pitched tone as she shut the door behind her. Behind. That was also what my eyes were glued to as Amy turned around. Blue yoga pants hugged her legs and ass. Up top, she wore a couple layers of white tank tops, which made me wonder if she’d just come from yoga after class. She walked toward us on the couch, threw her backpack down, then stood there, hands on hips, and glanced at the TV. “Whatcha doing?”

“Tonight is Victorinos night for Doña Maria and me.” I tried to emphasize that this was a two-person thing. If Amy sat down next to us on the couch, I was pretty sure my not-so-random boner would be coming right back, which was not something I needed to be dealing with right now. Besides, if Amy joined us, the last thing I’d be able to concentrate on for the next hour would be the ins and outs of a Spanish telenovela. “Awesome! Mind if I join you two?” Her smile was perky, and she plopped herself down between us on the couch without waiting for an answer. Her leg barely grazed me, but that was enough. I had on basketball shorts and a throwaway white t-shirt, but after Amy’s touch, my cock started to pound, growing with every heartbeat that sent it blood. I strategically placed my forearm over my lap to shield it from the women’s view. “Not at all,” I responded through gritted teeth. “Want some wine?” Doña Maria asked her. “Quieres vino?” “Oh, I can’t have wine. I’m only twenty.” Doña Maria and I looked at each other and cracked up at that one, both breaking into billowy laughter. “What? What’s so funny?” Amy asked. “Estás en España ahora, mi hija.” She smiled from her eyes, putting her hand on Amy’s shoulder. Amy glanced at me for a quick translation.

“Drinking age in Spain is technically eighteen,” I explained, still grinning at her. “But the rules are a little fluid when you’re imbibing at home, anyways.” Most Spaniards got their drinking legs early—age fifteen or sixteen. But it wasn’t a culture of getting embarrassingly shitfaced like we did back in America. It was more of a, ‘let’s have one or two drinks to enjoy dinner’ attitude. “Chandler, vino para Amy.” “Sure,” I said, to Maria, then shot Amy a look. “And don’t try to act all angelic today after you were throwing back shots the last night.” I winked at her. She rolled her eyes at my commentary. Really, I was just trying to stall and come up with a plan, because there was no way I was getting up to get Amy a wine glass without revealing the massive erection she’d given me by just sitting next to me. Fuck. “You know what; here Amy, here. Take my glass. I’ve had a lot tonight,” I offered, and handed her my wine glass. She accepted it, a little surprised. “Uh, gracias.” She tasted it, a tiny drop, and smiled with approval. “Malbec, my fave.” “Oh?” I asked, casually. She nodded, taking another long sip as she watched the show, then glanced over at me every once in awhile as she spoke. “I went on this trip to

Mendoza—that’s in Argentina—a few years ago with my parents. We went to this amazing vineyard. My dad let me have a small glass of the Malbec they made there and ever since that trip, it’s been my go-to for wine.” She paused slightly, flicking her gaze at me then quickly back at the TV. “Well, that is, when I drink wine.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway…” “Huh, cool,” I said, not sure why she was suddenly uneasy. But I stored that detail like my brain was a sponge, like I did everything else about her. Everything little thing I learned about Amy, I couldn’t help but take note of and file away in the memory bank. Right at that moment, Doña Maria glanced at her watch then stood up. “Dios mio! La hora! Is late.” We both smiled, because Doña Maria’s accent was awesome. She was no English expert, but she managed a few basic phrases and I’d been helping her with them, too. “Where are you going?” I asked. “I have, how you say, a…date?” Amy nodded, taking a big sip of her wine. “That’s awesome. Have fun!” “You have fun too,” she said, and smiled knowingly. “Here, Chandler. Más vino!” She handed me her wine glass and I accepted it. Amy and I watched Victorinos in silence for a

while when Doña Maria disappeared to her room to get ready. It wasn’t lost on me that Amy decided to stay in the middle seat of the couch, her leg hovering millimeters from touching me again. When Doña Maria came out of her room, she looked damn good, I had to admit. She wore a strappy, tight black dress that didn’t even reach her knees. “Wow Doña Maria! Tú eres muy linda!” Amy exclaimed. Doña Maria smiled warmly. “Oh gracias. Chau!” She blew us a kiss and left, leaving Amy and me all alone. The moment she left, there was an increased aura of tension in the room now that Amy and I were alone. I could feel her warm body inches from me. My rock hard erection still hadn’t gone down an inch. I kept a poker face of an expression though, staring straight at the TV, not attempting to make any conversation. Amy seemed to sense my stress and glanced over at me. “Chandler, do you not want me to be here?” she asked, clearing her throat. “No, it’s fine,” I retorted without thinking, my voice slightly hoarse. I took an automatic gulp of wine then set it down on the coffee table before me, trying real hard to pretend she wasn’t there. “No, it’s obviously not fine,” she continued, after watching me for a few seconds. “You are

acting awkward as hell.” “Am I?” I shrugged and kept staring at the TV, which I wasn’t paying attention to in the slightest any more. Trying to ignore Amy had the opposite effect. I could feel her eyes on my face. She nodded, and took a deep breath. “I think the whole ‘pact thing’ we made was kind of drunken. We should discuss things sober. You know, if we’re going to be living together for the next couple of months, it would be best to be civil.” “We’re not being civil right now?” “You’re not even looking at me, so no. But maybe civil isn’t the right word. It would be nice to be…not awkward. And there are some specifics we need to discuss.” I took a deep breath and turned to face her. “Fine.” “Okay, great!” She smiled. “So I made up this list of rules today in class.” She set her wine glass down and reached for her backpack on the floor. Then she pulled out a list of what must have been thirty bullet points on a white piece of paper. I stared at her neat scrawl, some of the bullet points quite lengthy. “Someone’s a little Type A,” I noted. She shot me a raised brow look. “What’s Type A?” “Uh, you write everything down and need

clearly defined boundaries.” “Oh, okay.” She thought about it then nodded. “Where did you hear that?” “I’m a psych major.” She coughed lightly, reaching for her wine again. I knew that look. “Despite what people tell you about athletes, I do occasionally learn something in class,” I said, defending myself but laughing. She chuckled. “Fine. So I’m Type A. Tell me about it.” “Most people think it’s genetics that determines personality, but it’s actually more nurture than nature,” I added, showing off. “Genetics is part of it but it’s not an underlying cause.” “Is that so?” she murmured. “Okay, what else, doctor?” I grinned. I loved talking about this stuff. “Well, most Type A's are perfectionists—hence, your list making,” I listed. “They’re also usually rather critical of themselves, and over-anxious…” When she inhaled sharply I looked at her, feeling her tense slightly beside me. “You okay?” She nodded, and forced a fake smile that I didn’t understand and didn’t like. Amy was not a fake type of girl. That’s what I liked most about her: her authenticity. “Let’s stay on topic, shall we?” “Don’t like talking about yourself, huh?” I teased, trying to lighten her up.

Finally, a genuine smile. “Just like you. Now, take a look at the list and let me know what you think,” she said, handing me the paper. I scrunched my face up, unsure what the ‘just like you,’ comment had meant. I thought about addressing it, but instead I cleared my throat and began to read out loud. “Preamble”—I looked over at her—“you wrote a preamble? Wow.” “Just go with it.” I cleared my throat again before I began to read it aloud. “Preamble to the constitution of Chandler and Amy’s friendship. In the interests of remaining sane over the course of our study abroad term, it is vital that both parties be friends and only friends. Therefore, the first party proposes the following rules to ensure a peaceful and happy tenure as study abroad partners.” “That’s me. I’m the first party,” Amy said, giggling with a silly smile. “You taking a constitutional law class right now or something?” She nodded excitedly. I had to laugh. The girl was nerdy as hell, and comfortable with that. I gave her props. I shrugged and kept going, giving my best try at a ‘proclamation sounding’ voice. “‘Rule number one. No kissing. Rule Two. No petting’.” I stopped, hating this list. “Really? Petting? This is ridiculous.” “Just read them all the way through.”

“No barging into the shower. No shit-talking the other person. No bringing other people home to fuck.” I stopped, and looked at her. “What’s up with this rule? So you’re friend zoning me but I can’t fuck other girls? Fat chance of that happening.” “Chandler, we’re friendzoning each other,” she said, so insistent. “It’s a mutual decision for the good of both parties, remember?” I smiled, tossing her list on the coffee table. “Oh, right. So obviously, we are attracted to each other.” She let out an indignant breath of air. “Excuse me?” “Oh come on. You know it’s true. Both of the mentioned parties are attracted to each other,” I corrected, using her constitutional language against her. “We’ve even said as much.” “Maybe a little, but you’re the exact opposite of the guys I like to date,” she said, but not denying my statement. “I’m more into the intellectual types.” “Oh yeah?” I grinned, my eyes moving over her body. “Yeah,” she emphasized. “One, who says I’m not an intellectual type? Two, why are your nipples hard if you’re not attracted to me?” My voice came out low and throaty, just as I’d intended. If Amy wanted to be

just friends, I sure as hell wasn’t going to make this easy for her. She looked down and touched her nipple through her double tank top arrangement. I couldn’t tell if she had a bra on or not. Her breath caught. “How the hell can you tell?” “So you’re admitting they are hard?” I cocked my head. She scooched her body away from mine. She sighed. “It’s cold in here.” “Ha! It’s seventy degrees inside.” “My post workout sheath of sweat has me colder than normal. And even if I am a little bit attracted to you, that doesn’t mean we should act on it.” “Your brain is really fighting your vagina, isn’t it? Laughing, she responded. “You should talk, Mr. Boner during telenovela time.” I looked down. Yup. I was pitching a tent, and through my enthusiasm in talking with Amy, I’d forgotten to keep shielding myself. “Damn. And I thought I was being stealthy.” “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she stated. “But it’s just not going to happen between us. You know that would be a disaster if we got together and then broke up and were still living in the same place, right?” I paused because getting a different host parent would be near next to impossible. Amy clearly had

different views on relationships that I didn’t hold as dear; but I liked and respected her enough to want to honor her wishes, even if it might kill me. “Fuck, you’re right,” I said, eventually, then I looked at her for a long second. “I have to say, I am surprised at how okay you are that I just popped a boner in front of you.” She grabbed the rules from the table and then her backpack. “I was lucky enough to be raised in a household where I was taught healthy sexual expression,” she said, getting off the couch. “And no, I don’t think there is anything unhealthy about you getting an erection.” I squinted at her when I spoke the next words. “You know, this is all your fault,” I ruminated, grabbing my wine glass. “If you weren't so hot, I wouldn't be so hard.” Her jaw dropped, but she quickly collected herself to respond in a dignified manner. “Well, if you are too hard—you do have two hands. Figure it out.” I nearly choked on my wine. “What did you just say?” She put a hand on her hip and looked me right in the eyes. “Just keep in mind about that the main reason I don’t want you bringing girls here is because you’re so damn loud and the walls are thin —and this girl,” she said, pointing to herself, “needs her beauty rest.”

I stared at her. “You really are sexually liberated, aren’t you?” She shrugged. “My parents are hippies…they used to walk around naked in the house like it was no big deal. They were also pretty open about talking about sex and all that with me and my older brother. Guess it rubbed off on me. Anyways, I have a date tonight, so I have to get ready.” What…the…fuck? Did everyone suddenly have a date tonight besides me? How did I miss this memo? “A date? You have a date?” My pangs of jealousy began to throb. I was the fucking Casanova here. If anyone was going to take Amy on a date, it was going to be me. “Yep! With a Spaniard. I’m going to practice my Español!” She did this three-hip-shake-dance move thing with snaps at each turn. My heart beat faster, and jealousy welled up inside me out of nowhere. “Uh, wasn’t that in the rules, no dating Spaniards?” “Nope! You didn’t take the time to finish reading them, so you don’t know. But dating is actually encouraged. You know, cultural assimilation and all that. We just can’t bring them back to the apartment. All right, gotta get ready!” My whole mood was changed when she left the room. This was going to be hell, getting through these next couple of months living with Amy. I had to laugh out loud, because—call me cocky—I can

hook up with a girl whenever I want. Women flock to a Division One athlete and knew how to take care of them between the sheets. Yet the one girl who I really wanted was playing hard to get. And going on dates with fucking Spanish dudes. After disappearing for a few minutes, she appeared again, looking extra fuckable in a white vneck t-shirt and a short black skirt. Did she even have a bra on? She ignored my stare. “Adios Chandler! Glad we cleared up everything with this talk. Have a good night.” She closed the door before I could respond, but if I had, I would have said that we had cleared exactly nothing up tonight. I was even more confused than I’d been about our non-status. I thought about calling a couple of girls who I’d hung out with before Amy had arrived, but I decided against it. I knew exactly what I needed tonight, anyways. I wished I could involve Amy in this activity, but since she was hell bent on being just friends, I had to live with that. I turned off the TV to get rid of the distraction. I reached into my shorts and grabbed hold of my cock, which could not get any harder, and pulled it out. On the couch? Fuck it, why not out here? I would start on the couch and then maybe head to the bed to finish myself off. Besides, this was

some unprecedented alone time with no Doña Maria and no Amy. I would take my fucking time with this rocket session. I pulled my shorts and my boxers down all the way around my ankles, closed my eyes, and pictured Amy’s thick, luscious ass.

EIGHT AMY

M

aybe if you weren't so hot, I wouldn't be so hard. I slammed the door of Doña Maria's apartment shut and let the air fall out of my lungs as Chandler's words repeated themselves in my head. I pressed the button for the ground level once I reached the elevator, even more fired up…and a lot turned on. It was strange to be accused of turning a guy on when for months I’d been accused of being a turn off. It was both confusing and kind of sexy. Restless, I tapped my foot as I waited for the elevator. It was an old building and the elevator was quite janky, but finally it arrived, and I opened the old-fashioned metal cage. The guy I was going on a date with was going to be so screwed. I'd be nodding and smiling while

Javier spoke Spanish that I could barely understand, and meanwhile, all I would be thinking about was Chandler's hot body. His sexy voice. His cocky tone. I needed someone to coach me out of this mood I was in, to remind me that as charming as Chandler was, he was definitely the kind of man who would dump you after one night. It made sense in my brain, but my brain was fighting hard against my reason. Thirty, to be exact. And now, I was soaked. In the several months with Scott, I hadn't gotten this wet when he was going down on me, yet being around this man it was instantaneous. It was almost unfair what Chandler could do to me. As the elevator dinged to the ground floor, I stepped out and dug around in my purse. I needed to call Becca for a sounding board. A few seconds of digging made me realize I had no phone. "Goddamn it!" I muttered, loudly. An older woman was walking toward the elevator, and she smiled at me, surely not understanding my English swear. I pressed the button to go back up to the sixth floor. Wet panties and no phone was no way to attend my date, which I honestly had less than zero interest in now. The woman smiled as I let her get in the

elevator before me. Her broad grin brought out all of the wrinkles in her face. We began our upward ascent and I wondered why she was so happy. After a brief farewell smile, I got off on my floor. Inside the apartment, I headed to my bedroom. Before I arrived to my room I heard a whisper that sounded like it was coming from Chandler's room. "Amy," the voice murmured. I arched an eyebrow and headed to Chandler's room to see what he wanted. I was about to knock when I heard him moaning. Instead, I peered through the crack in his door and my jaw dropped. My purse slid down in my hand and I hung onto it by a single finger, avoiding the embarrassment of Chandler seeing me watch him. He was on his bed, completely naked with the lights out. The moonlight seeped into the room, the only available light. I could see his eyes tightly shut and his back arched as he stroked his hard length. I froze, unable to look away. "Mmm. Amy," he grumbled again. I should have walked away that instant, but I couldn't. The truth was, it was the hottest thing I had ever seen: watching him touch himself like that, his hands wrapped around himself as he stroked up and down as he murmured my name. For the next minute, ten minutes—honestly, it

felt like a lifetime and a flash at once—I continued to stare through that crack in the door like a creep. Was he really thinking about me? I was never the hot girl in high school. Nerdy and slightly awkward with people? Absolutely. Why didn't he watch porn like a normal guy, like my ex always did? I couldn't help it; I pictured myself squatting on that thick, hard cock of his. How I would feel on top of him, my ass hitting his hips, his hands guiding me as I glided up and down on the thing— Fuck. Oxygen. I needed some. If my panties were wet before, now they were caught in a thunderstorm. I felt my pussy clench hard around nothing and begin to pulse. My brain yelled at me, “Get away from this man, from this peep show if you know what's good for you…he'll open his eyes soon!” Yet, I couldn't. Chandler's breathing increased and he began to growl on top of the covers. "Yes. Yes. Fuck. Amelita." Holy fuck. Well, unless he knew two Amelitas —highly unlikely—this had to be me. I clenched again and did the unthinkable… I reached a finger between my legs and slid my panties to the side. Not good enough. I slid them down my legs and began to finger myself. Ok this was bad. Hearing him with his girlfriend

and getting off in my room was one thing but I’d never, ever thought about looking in on someone like this, much less touching myself while watching someone masturbating. But Chandler was the hottest man alive, and he was saying my name. No, scratch that. My Spanish nickname. Almost like it was an endearment. I didn’t know we were on such a friendly basis, but this was quickly becoming the single hottest moment of my life. I pulled up the side of my skirt, my panties falling completely to the ground as I ran a finger on myself. It felt completely forbidden watching this, and without him knowing, it made it even more explicit. And maybe that’s what made it all the more hot. I grazed my clit with my finger, careful not to rub too hard that I’d moan. If Chandler heard me, I’d die of embarrassment. Not to mention he might hate me for the next two months. I reached the tip of my finger inside me, wondering what it would be like to experience Chandler’s hard cock inside me instead of just my finger. Sweet Jesus that would be a fun ride I’d never want to get off. Get off. I couldn’t help myself from increasing the pressure of my finger on my slit. I wanted more pleasure and I wanted to keep watching him. I closed my eyes. The angel in me told me I needed to stop what I was doing and go back to my

room. Chandler, apparently, brought out the devil in me. Pleasure came in waves, and I thought I might come right there, standing up. I opened my eyes and saw Chandler pumping hard, about to come. He yelled my name again, louder this time. “Amy,” he growled into the room’s soft blue moonlight. The next few seconds happened so fast, I barely remember them. In quick succession, I heard the apartment door open up and Doña Maria speaking loudly in Spanish with a man accompanying her. On hearing them inside, I let out a noise that said, ‘Oh shit!’ but in my orgasmic state, it came out more like “ungh,” followed by ‘ssssss.’ Chandler was so locked in that he didn’t even notice me, at least from what I could tell. He stoked his cock with intense vigor, and my eyes widened as I heard him growl and then watched his cum shoot straight up in the air. I could hear Doña Maria shutting the door and then her steps to where she would come around the corner. I was risking being seen. In my slightly frazzled state, I ran to my own room and shut the door behind me. I exhaled, threw my purse on the floor and plopped down on the bed, simultaneously relieved and freaked out. I had just watched my host brother jerk off and without his permission, and liked it.

No, loved it. It was, quite possibly, the most defining sexual experience of my life. When I came back to general consciousness, I realized something that knocked the wind out of me. My panties?! Where were they? I went into panic mode, frantically looking around my room. I took off my skirt and tank top and threw on my pajamas and a t-shirt. I whipped open my door, eyes glued to the floor as I searched the area where I’d been standing. They weren’t on the ground. Instead, Chandler was standing in the doorframe of his room, holding something in his hand. “Missing something?” he asked with a big, wide smirk, his face cocked to the side. He’d at least put on boxers now, but I could literally feel the heat radiating off his body. He was so tall that I had to take a half step back to make sure I was looking him in the eye. If I could have seen my own face at that moment, it probably would have been blood red from how hard I was blushing. Even my shame was ashamed. I tried to cover it up. “Do you know a lot of Amy's?” I managed to ask, trying to play it cool. “Nope. Just you, Squirt.” He looked at me and licked his lips. Another shudder of pleasure fell over me.

“Give me those.” I pointed to my black lace panties he’d balled in his fist. He didn’t flinch. “Actually, I think I’m just going to hold on to these as payment for the show you just watched.” I froze. He leaned in and whispered, “For wanting to be just friends, you have a funny way of showing it.” “So do you,” I shot back. “Glad I could provide you with some material for your spank bank. Now give me those.” I arched an eyebrow. I reached for them, but he held them up. “Nah ah ah,” he taunted. “Fine, you know what? Keep them.” I have no idea where I got the nerve or the idea but it just came out. “Because you, Chandler, will never taste this pussy. So enjoy it since that’s the closest you’ll get.” I smiled, and for once I saw the lordly grin leave his face. At that moment we heard footsteps nearing and Doña Maria’s voice behind us. “Hello, hijos!” she said with a warm smile. As she got closer, her expression turned curious. Chandler put the hand with my undergarments behind his back. “Hola, Doña Maria,” Chandler said, his smile broad. “How was your date?” I chirped. “Very good,” she giggled, sounding more like a

schoolgirl than a mature woman. “You two are having a serious conversation?” “We were just saying goodnight,” Chandler interjected, all ease. I was still trying to cool off. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Okay. Buenas noches.” She turned to head back to the living room, where she was apparently hanging out with her date. I also turned toward my bed, feeling worn out from all of the sexual energy I’d expended tonight. “Hey Squirt,” Chandler said, before I could close the door to my room. I stuck my head out so that I could see him. “What?” “Sweet dreams,” he said. His smile was positively evil, and my panties were draped over his head like a hat. He winked, then popped his head back into his room and shut the door. In my room, I collapsed on top of my covers, mentally and physically exhausted as hell from our interaction. Within five minutes, I was fast asleep.

W HEN I WOKE up the next morning, I instinctively reached for my phone, like I always did, but it wasn’t within arm’s reach. Instead, after I looked around, I saw that it was on my desk on top of my

copy of Don Quixote. Shit. I hadn’t even texted Javier to tell him I couldn’t make it, I realized. I sat up in bed and leaned toward the window, pulling up the shades to my bedroom. A single blackbird appeared on my windowsill, chirped at me, and hopped a few times before flinching and flying away. Judging by the soft outside light, I estimated it was around 7 a.m. or so. For having just woken up, I felt surprisingly awake. Actually, I felt the best I’d felt in months. Was it the Barcelona sun and air? Maybe. But probably not, I thought, glancing at the wall between Chandler and me. However, that was not a thought I was going to entertain; at least, not for long. It was completely absurd to think that a guy I barely knew was the reason for my good mood. I swung my legs around and put my feet on the floor. Last night’s events came surging back to me. What had happened felt like a dream. Or maybe a porn scene. What was it about Chandler that both ticked me off and turned me on so much at once? I yawned, realizing something funny. Last night, I’d fallen right asleep, no problem. That hadn’t happened the entire time I had been in Spain. I’d either taken my meds, or struggled for hours before finally falling asleep. Hell, it’d been months since I’d fallen asleep normally and it felt great to be

drug free instead of waking up in a haze. Unlike most mornings, I felt spry and ready to go already. Motivated, I jumped in the shower, and when I got back to my room, I played ‘Lovely Day’ by Bill Withers on my laptop—an old favorite that my dad used to put on in the mornings sometimes when I was a kid. I threw on a floral dress that was almost too short to keep it classy. But I was feeling a little edgy today so I went with it. I checked my phone and smiled at a text message from my dad. He sent me random texts of positive quotes. Mom sent a long email. Hers was more parental: are you taking your meds? Remember to tell your host mom about your food allergy. No drinking! Don’t forget your weekly meeting with Dr. Han. Sam got promoted at his firm, and send that busy brother of yours an email once in awhile. Grandma…grandpa, aunts, uncles…news, news, news. I set the phone aside and finished getting ready. I loved my mom, adored her, but for a hippie yoga instructor, when it came to me, she got more wound than a coil. I was blasting the music when Chandler finally stumbled out of his room and passed mine on the way to the shower. He caught me in the middle of doing a twirl. “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed, huh?” he murmured. He had a serious case of bedhead. Again, he was shirtless with just

sweatpants on and a towel slung over his shoulder. I kept dancing. “Gonna be a lovely day.” I smiled. “I like seeing you happy, Squirt,” he said, returning my smile, and my heart throbbed. We looked each other in the eyes but neither of us addressing the oh-so-very-awkward events that occurred last night. I locked my eyes on his, and I wondered what it would be like to run my hands down his chest, staring at his neck and landing on the V shape that his abs made. I shook myself out of it and reminded myself of Doña Maria’s warning. Tiene muchas chicas. “Yeah, uh, I think we really worked on building our friendship last night,” I said, breaking the silence. “I’m glad we didn’t cross any lines though. That would be bad.” Masturbating to each other didn’t count, right? “Yes, that would be bad,” he repeated, but he didn’t look like he meant it. The song ended on my laptop. I grabbed it, put it in my backpack, and headed toward the door, toward Chandler. He took up the whole door frame, completely blocking my exit. He reached out and grabbed a few locks of my brown hair and whispered, “But I really want to be bad with you. Especially after seeing what a bad girl you really are, Squirt.” I blushed, and inside, I wanted to do another

dance because what girl didn’t want to hear that from a guy as hot as him? But self-preservation had me blurting out, “Chandler, no. We really shouldn’t. We can’t.” “Give me one date,” he countered. Oh, who was I kidding? After what I did, was the friendship pact still legitimate? I knew Chandler didn’t think so, not that he ever really had. “A… date?” I asked, weary. He crossed his arms across his chest, which was really distracting since I couldn’t keep my eyes off his muscles. “Yes. You know? Like what our grandparents used to do to show interest in each other before everything was all one-night stands and dating sites.” I had to stop staring at his body because my brain cells were being obliterated, and I forced my eyes to his. “I still don’t think that’s a good idea.” “I’ll prove you wrong.” The man would not back down. I didn’t budge. “No can do. Sorry I’m not sorry, this will never work.” “I don’t understand why you’re resisting this, Amy. Your eyes were closed last night when I saw you at my door watching me.” I knew he’d found the evidence of my standing there, but my throat went dry at knowing he’d seen me touching myself. The only consolation was that he didn’t think I was a pervert or angry for my

actions. This got complicated so fast, and it was all my doing. “I’m sorry about that, and it was wrong of me,” I said, haltingly. “That was a mistake. I won’t repeat it.” “Fine, but I’m not sorry at all,” he said, lowly, his jaw tightening. His arms dropped and he put his hands at his hips and I could tell he was getting annoyed with me. No—frustrated. “Tell me you aren’t attracted to me in the slightest and we’ll forget that ever happened.” Now he was starting to piss me off again. His pushiness just made my resolve that much more ironclad. “I told you, I am physically attracted to you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.” “Why do you assume I’m going to sleep with you?” he shot back. I exhaled. “You were sure thinking about it last night.” “Ha! Well, you’re right…” His demeanor changed, which put me on guard even more. “I definitely want to show you how the real thing feels,” he concluded, with a slow smile. Men, so predictable but I felt like I had the upper hand again. Then, for some reason, his eyes went to my desk right by the door, and the bottle of pills I hadn’t hidden away. “What is that?” He was about to reach for it when I snatched it out of his reach and stuffed it in

the drawer. He snapped his head toward me, a little taken back. “Did that say ‘Prozac’?” The panic was immediate. “I found it in the drawer,” I lied, trying to keep my voice even. “Must be Maria’s.” I inwardly cringed at how fake I sounded. Chandler frowned, a crease between his eyebrows. “She doesn’t seem the type. Prozac’s an antidepressant,” he said with a neutral tone of voice. “It’s used for people with personality, panic and anxiety disorders, and depression.” Fear cut right through me, at him finding out because right at that moment, I remembered that he was a psych major. “Then again, I don’t know her that well,” he added, thoughtfully. He clearly wasn’t associating the pills with me in any way. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or not about that. Then another thought crossed my brain. Chandler being a psych major made me wonder if he’d be more understanding of my own condition. “You probably read a lot of case studies on that kind of thing, huh?” I ventured, curious about his response. “People with mental disorders and that kind of thing?” He nodded, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “My interest isn’t really in therapy, research or psychiatric care. I wanted to learn it to play basketball better—get into my opponent’s

heads and all that. Maybe even coach college ball someday…” He gave me a wry smile. “Obviously, I learn about every aspect within the field itself but going into that particular field, no thanks.” I had this sinking feeling about this conversation but I had to keep asking. “So,” I said, barely finding my voice, “you don’t really like dealing with people with mental disorders, is what you’re saying?” He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “It’s not that. I understand the basics of it and that a lot of people suffer from it and it doesn’t make you this freak or anything. But I guess I’d never wanted to deal with that directly, y’know?” he said, shaking his head and looking off, lost in thought again. “A lot of the case studies dealt with the emotional turmoil for the patient and their families… I just knew right away that that side of psychology was way more then I wanted to deal with and it just didn’t interest me all that much.” He gave a one-shouldered, casual shrug and looked at me. “I mean, there are other reasons too but my interest has always been more on the behavioral and social side of psychology.” The emotional turmoil. Yeah. On me but on my family as well. My parents had never made me feel bad about my disorder. They’d actually felt like it was their fault when the reasons behind my depression were likely chemical. My disorder didn’t

rule me but it was a part of me and my life, for good or for bad. Up or down. And not everyone could handle it, or wanted to and that was okay. That was fine. It just meant I couldn’t be more than just casual friends with Chandler. He wasn’t an ‘all in’ kind of guy and from this revealing discussion, my original instincts had been correct. At least, he didn’t think I was a freak, so that was something. With everything aired between us, I had no desire to continue this line of conversation. Ever. Chandler did understand, but he wanted nothing to do with that. With me. Not the real me, or all of me. I wasn’t worth all that complicated trouble and Chandler wanted the very opposite of troubled and complicated. I’d felt the need to hide my disorder from a lot of people in the past and it’d prevented me from getting too close because of reactions and explanations like the one Chandler had just given. I fully accepted my reality. I wasn’t going to try to lay my issues on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with it—like I had mistakenly done with Scott. It just reminded me that I needed to be more guarded than ever. “How about this,” I proposed, forcing a smile and levity in my voice, and damn if I hadn’t sold it. “I’ll let you take me out as friends this Friday. Per the pact.” He eyed me suspiciously. “As friends?”

“Yep. Within the friend zone boundaries,” I said, relief flooding through me. For once, I was thankful for his one-track mind. “Remember the list, our pact, okay? We both agreed to be friends.” Whatever he thought that was, it made him smile. Big. “If that’s all I can get, I’ll take it.” “Great!” I said brightly, and made a mental note to review my list, just in case Chandler found a way around any of the rules. “Now move, I have a day I have to crush.” However, I had to push him aside until he finally let me through. “Oh hey, and Squirt, I almost forgot to tell you one more thing.” I rolled my eyes and turned, letting his charm work on me because it was easier than feeling anything else. He spoke in a tone that was surprisingly sincere. “Your ass looks sexy as fuck in that dress. Have a great day.” He winked, turned around and walked toward the bathroom. I opened my mouth to say some kind of retort back to him, but nothing came out. I ended up whispering to myself, “Your ass isn’t so bad yourself. Too bad you are also an ass.” But he really wasn’t, and that was the problem.

DESPITE

MY CONVERSATION WITH

C HANDLER , I was

choosing to not let it bring me down. Dad would be proud of me. Dr. Han, I’m sure, would say I’m making progress. While I didn’t like Chandler’s answer, he’d been truthful with me, whereas, I hadn’t. It was strange that I felt closer and even more attracted to him even though he’d made it clear to me that being friends would be the only way to keep that closeness intact. If that’s all I would get, I’d have to be okay with it and mean it. A part of me was okay with that because I was actually beginning to see him as a real friend versus my superficial friendship with Becca, or others, in my program. Surprisingly, at school, I felt so tuned in and relaxed that I actually understood what my Spanish teacher was saying today. I even added some to the discussion about Don Quixote. Every time he heard me, he seemed surprised that I was paying attention and contributing. After class, Becca and I sat on a bench in the sun to eat the lunches we had packed. The weather was perfect, a little warmer than expected and it was nice watching other students milling about campus. I dug into my backpack and pulled out my brown paper bag. Once I opened it, I saw that Doña Maria had given me a few pieces of classic Spanish tortilla with an apple. It was basic but delicious. “You’re like, in a good mood today.” Instead of grating, Becca’s Valley Girl intonation was really

starting to grow on me. “What got into you? Good date with Mr. Spaniard last night, I’m assuming?” I smiled and thought about how this was the first pill-free day I’d had in quite some time, and I was feeling excellent, despite it all. I sat there, frozen in place for a few seconds when it hit that I hadn’t taken my pills because Chandler had interrupted my routine this morning. I mentally shrugged it off even though Dr. Han would be alarmed if she found out. Then again, she’d be just as alarmed about me drinking while on my meds but to be fair, I wasn’t trying to be irresponsible on purpose. Of course I’d get right back on my pill routine starting tomorrow morning. However, if I continued on a path of not taking them, then… “Uh, Earth to Amy,” Becca prodded, nudging me with a sandled foot. I gave a start and looked over at her. “Oh— ah…I actually bailed on the date,” I told her, barely recalling her question. She squinted. “Why?” I sighed. “The night just got a little weird, to be honest. And I didn’t feel well.” “What do you mean, ‘got a little weird’?” “I saw Chandler doing…you know.” I gave her a look. She gave me one back, almost egging me to say it. “On his bed, when he thought no one was around,” I said, keeping it PG since we were in public.

Becca’s jaw dropped. “You saw Chandler Spiros shaking hands with Mr. Happy?” I burst out laughing. “He’d probably call it the five-finger shuffle.” Becca laughed too, and suddenly we were both laughing so hard that people were staring at us in the courtyard of the university as they walked by. “So how was the show?” Becca finally managed to ask when we had calmed down. “Let’s just say I didn’t hate seeing him do the five-finger shuffle.” I paused, reconsidering my words. “Well, to be more accurate, at some point he used all ten.” I would just leave out the little detail about how I felt inspired to join him. Becca sighed. “I’m so jealous you have him for a host brother. You were right to stay just friends with him though. In my opinion.” “Oh yeah?” I fished. “Why is that?” “He’s a major player,” Becca said, with all seriousness. “Biggest one on campus at UNC. I don’t think he’s ever had an actual girlfriend— nothing long-term, I mean. Just leaves a trail of girls with broken hearts.” “So he’s not a one woman type of guy?” I asked, but I’d already figured that out. “Hah! He’s the furthest thing from it.” “You know this first hand?” “Well, I heard from a friend of a friend who is a

model.” Becca got real animated now. “A model! He went on three dates and they definitely hooked up. And then he ended it saying she was shallow!” “Was she?” I asked, digging into my lunch. Becca chuckled. “Are you trying to defend him?” “No, I just want to get the facts straight,” I said, but she was right. I was defending him. “It just sounds like hearsay is all—a friend of a friend said this and that?” Becca shook her head, her expression stern. “Trust me girl, don’t go down that path. I know he probably says things about how you’re so great, you’re pretty, blah blah blah. He’s smooth as ice. But he’s saying that to another girl right now…” I knew she was right but it bothered me, to see one side of him at home, like I was seeing the real him and then to hear this, what was probably the reality. Still, I couldn’t help the things I was feeling for him. But instead of arguing with Becca, I took a big bite of my Spanish tortilla and chewed, saying nothing. “You know,” she went on, dramatically, picking at her salad with a plastic fork, “his nickname around campus at UNC is Casanova. And I heard a couple of basketball friends call him that when we went out on Tuesday night, so it sounds like a rep he plans on maintaining while abroad.” I replayed Becca’s words over in my head.

Hearing her say it made him sound like the really shallow one when my opinion of him had begun to rise. But yes—he was a player and I couldn’t forget that either. Chandler and I could have a real conversation as friends, but my attraction to him was only deepening and that warred with the realistic side of me. He wanted me and I was flattered and frazzled by it. Logically, I knew Becca was right. He only wanted a night or a few nights and then he’d be done with me. In Spain, things had turned upside down. I shouldn’t want someone like Chandler because we had nothing in common and were only brought together by chance. I had to face the fact that for Chandler, him wanting to hook up was pure convenience, living in the same space. An anger welled up in me, and I instantly felt foolish for even thinking that I could be the one to tame him. Be special. I hadn’t even realized that I was trying to be some force that could change Chandler until now. The anger gave me some semblance of clarity. All he was trying to do was nail me then move on to the next girl. I’d known that since the beginning and that I wasn’t the one in control of this game. Chandler was, and he had years of experience. Just when I thought he might be okay, like saving me from that creepy guy at the bar, taking me out dancing afterwards, being around and talking with him—he ruined any good

parts of him by pursuing me just to pursue me. I had to remember that he didn’t care about me and never would. I hated that it made me feel so hollow inside. At the same time, I’d just broken up with Scott, and while he wasn’t an ideal boyfriend, we’d been together for a while. I was feeling weak, lonely and I could probably use Chandler in a way that wouldn’t hurt him in the least. But I wasn’t built like that, screw some guy then move on. Just as I wouldn’t be able to change Chandler, he wouldn’t change me. I’d just be the one left wounded. “Changing the subject,” she continued, “what are you up to tomorrow night?” Just a friend date that I am currently considering canceling. “Nothing,” I decided, glancing over at her, “why?” Becca grinned wide. “Friday is my twenty-first birthday and I want to do something fun. Are you in?” “Totally,” I said, forcing all thoughts of Chandler out of my head. “What are the details?”

NINE CHANDLER

M

y sneakers screeched on the hardwood of the basketball court as I pulled up short of Le Ral, who was guarding me in practice today. “You can’t touch this, Le Ral. No chance.” “Keep talking, pretty boy,” he barked back. “You are not getting to the hole.” The Frenchmen was cocky as hell and I liked it when he guarded me because he toughened me up. He was a solid few inches taller than me, but my wingspan was longer than his and I was solid muscle. He, on the other hand, was more of a lanky type build. I faked left, then dribbled right. Le Ral was a half step behind me as I took off in the air and slam dunked the ball with authority. He jumped in vain to block me.

“Fuck!” Le Ral yelled. I let out a primal yell. “Told ya I would get by you.” Coach whistled at all of us to a stop, clapping his hands a few times and said, “Fellas, let’s call practice here. Good work today.” He pointed to me. “Spiros, I don’t know what the hell you had for lunch today, but can you let us all know so we can get some of that? Thanks.” There were a few sniggers from the team but it had been evident today that I was on fire. I felt unstoppable, unbreakable. Even Tony Le Ral, who was a year older than me and sure to get drafted by either the NBA or signed by a Euroleague when the year was up, couldn’t do anything with me. I knew what had given me my razor edge, but I’d never tell: I was pumped up for my little friend date with Amy tonight. Even more so because I hadn’t seen her since our interesting conversation yesterday morning, which had been kind of off the wall but not in a bad way. I was looking forward to hanging out at home with her again last night but I’d had late practices and when I got home early evening, according to Maria, Amy had turned in early. Then this morning, she’d been gone before we could have breakfast together, which I wouldn’t have minded and having another oddball conversation. Sometimes you just know that you have an

explosive chemistry with someone, and with Amy, that was the case. Ever since I’d first seen her, walking into the kitchen still half asleep and sexy, I’d wanted her. She had these tight, perky tits, and a great ass that I knew was going to feel absolutely amazing to grab. But these past few days had been enlightening. Usually, I just focused on the superficial and hooked up with girls that took a mutual interest in me. It didn’t go that much deeper. I didn’t really make any attempt to get to know them beyond the very basics. We didn’t have meaningful or off the wall conversations. We didn’t talk about ourselves in finite and uncomfortable terms. It was just very safe—especially for me. Amy wasn’t safe. She had fire, personality and she spoke her mind. I liked that. A lot. More then I thought I would. I was still inexplicably drawn to her even knowing she wasn’t a safe choice. Maybe if we weren’t living in the same space, I could be more casual but the more I got to know her, the more interested I became. Other girls hadn’t even blipped on my radar since Amy came into the picture. Nearly a week of foregoing sex was the longest dry spell ever. There was just one problem. She could admit a mutual attraction but continued to refuse to admit that we wanted each other like a couple of virgins on prom night. Convincing her to just relax and have fun with it was proving diffiult. She was

almost as stubborn in denying me as I was about getting her into my bed. Since Tuesday, my head had been spinning, trying to figure out what Squirt’s deal was. What kind of girl stands outside your room—watching you in the most intimate thrusts of self love, saying her name—and then says that we were still going to be ‘just friends’? It put me on edge but taking my frustrations out in practice was apparently useful instead of distracting. I mean, what the fuck was up with this girl? A friend date? Was that even a thing? I am not the guy that girls friend zone. On the contrary, I’m the guy they put in the fuck zone. Plus, she’d left her panties outside the door for me. No way she hadn’t done that on purpose, which meant her little pact was nothing but a defense and not meant to be taken seriously, just as I’d thought. Was she really going to play pretend that she didn’t want me to give her the Chandler Spiros treatment for the rest of spring semester? She was only kidding herself if she thought she could hold out against me. Tonight, I would break down her defenses just like I broke down the defenses of any team that we played. I was up for a challenge. Hell, I liked a good challenge. Squirt was the best challenge I’d ever had. And what made her think that we couldn’t hook up for the next two months? She made it

sound like it’d be a one-time thing. With her right next door, a ‘one-time romp’ would never happen. The team grabbed their stuff from the benches while the coaches and staff lingered behind. The university’s basketball court was regulation size and newly built, clearly catering to the influx of student athletes—specifically, basketball. And Spain was the epicenter of Euorpean basketball at the collegiate and professional level, with the sport’s major organziations headquartered right here in Barcelona. My athletic scholarship was even paying for this Euro Prep Program, which was organized by the European Basketball Academy, and geared towards USA college athletes interested in playing ball in Europe. But leaving UNC and during winter and spring semester when the season was just starting had not been easy. I wasn’t the star player and never would be but I was pretty damn good so my coaches had been fairly pissed at me. But the opportunity to study abroad, right now, had been too important to pass up. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do once I graduated—either redshirt and have another year to figure shit out and consider the NBA or skip that and maybe join the European league that a few of my teammates back at school had been talking about. It was another reason I’d come here, and I knew the language fluently because of my mom so it was almost like kismet.

The guys razed me about my game while we all walked towards the locker room, especially Le Ral. While I was friends with all the guys on the team, Le Ral and I had become the closest and was making my decision about my basketball career that much clearer. He was already getting a lot of interest from teams in the Euroleague and would have his choice of teams to pick from. Tagging along with my new best friend might be fun since I had so little to really go back home to. After I showered, Le Ral and I chatted as we sat on the locker room bench while we toweled off. “You want to go out tonight?” he asked, giving me a look. “I would… But I have a date tonight.” He smirked, like he’d already known the answer. “Let me guess. With Amy, that short little ball of fire who was at the bar the other night?” “How’d you know?” I asked as I toweled off my hair. “A Frenchman knows when love is in the air.” He grinned. “I could just tell by the way shorty looked at you.” “She is short and also hot as fuck,” I replied, pulling on my jeans. I slipped a white t-shirt and light sweater over my head, tied my shoes, and stood up. I grinned, almost stupidly. “And she’s cool man. Way cool.” “Awwww. Look at that. So cute.”

I punched Le Ral in the shoulder. “Fuck you.” I smiled. “Well, let me know if you are up for anything after you hang out with her tonight.” Le Ral squinted and nodded, like he’d had some kind of realization. “And hey, didn’t you say she wanted to stay ‘just friends’?” I nodded back. “That’s what she said. But she wants me. I know it.” La Ral just shook his head as I made my way to the exit. Just then, my phone buzzed and I got a text from Amy. Amy: Hey sorry, can’t hang out tonight. I forgot to text you earlier but something came up, ttyl TTYL? What the fuck was this? I was confused as a monkey doing alegebra. I fired back a text: What are you doing? Amy: Friend’s birthday party… Chandler: Where is it? Amy: idk, gotta go get ready, ttyl Again with the fucking TTYL? I thought about her turning in early last night—had that been about her avoiding me and planning a way out of our date? Why else treat me like I was some kind of plague all of the sudden? I wasn’t angry, but this hot-cold thing was new to me. I knew she really believed that if we hooked up that things would go

down hill, and I saw her logic but it could end up being fun instead of bad. What was wrong with fun? Especially with each other? Had I hallucinated opening my eyes and seeing her writhing in my doorway, hand on her pussy as she pleasured herself while she watched me doing the same? Was I Mugatu over here taking crazy pills? I stopped short of the door, turned and yelled to Le Ral, “Hey, date’s canceled. Let’s hang tonight.” He was just standing up. His face spread into a grin. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Guys’ night.” “Guys’ night it is.” Amy was driving me crazy. Nuts. I’d never tried this hard over a girl. I’d never had to chase a girl before, and here she was…just blowing me off for no reason. Screw that. I could blow her off, too but…it bothered me. It really bothered me she didn’t want to hang out when I’d been looking forward to it all day. Even if my end goal was to get her in my bed, it wasn’t like I was going to maul her at the bar. It was like I’d done something to turn her off. I shook my head at myself. I knew I was just projecting and Amy was the type to tell me what was on her mind. So her friend’s b-day party was more important, no big deal. Telling myself that a few times didn’t make me feel better. Whatever, I told myself. Another night. No big deal. Nothing a little drinking therapy wouldn’t

cure.

TEN CHANDLER

“L

ove is tough, man,” Le Ral said, philosophically. “You never know when it’s going to bite you in the ass and then just take off running like a stray dog.” We’d been sitting at the bar for a while now, on our third round of beers, and I wasn’t sure if that was the beer talking. And who the hell said anything about me loving Amy? I didn’t say that out loud but why did the French always move shit along on the fast track? I just wanted to sleep with her—maybe more than once, until we burned each other out, or even until we both had to go back home. “That’s the third love metaphor I’ve heard from your crazy ass in the last hour,” I said, letting the sarcasm shine through. But to be honest, the more I thought about being blown off by Amy, the more

annoyed I got. What was her real deal? “I know man, but we’ve been sitting here for an hour and you keep brooding—over that girl.” Le Ral gave me a hearty pat on the back. “What’s with you? I’ve never seen you sweating a girl like this. Like you never even mentioned that Spanish girl you were dating, what’s her name again?” “What’s her name! Exactly!” I barked. I took a big swig of my Stella Artois and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Exactly?” Le Ral echoed, a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you mean by ‘exactly’?” “I mean that I’m done dating these girls on a superficial level,” I said, deciding this on the spot. “I’m over it. I want a girl who has quality here.” I pointed to my chest. “You mean you want a girl with quality tits? Or a good sweater? I can’t tell.” Le Ral had said that with an absolutely straight face. I punched him in the chest. “No you asshole, I’m talking about a quality heart.” “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” he drawled, and a little disbelieving. After all my tall tales and the tail I’d been hooking up with since he’s known me, the doubt was justified. Still, if he didn’t believe me, what girl would? Like, say, Amy. Or whoever. “I mean it, what’s gotten into you, Chandler?”

Le Ral was actually being serious and I was drawing a blank. I ran a hand through my hair and leveled with him. “Fuck man, I have no clue.” I paused. Actually, I did have a clue. I let it out. “This fucking Amy girl, I told you! She’s driving me insane.” “Well, that was sort of obvious. But, I know the cure for that, Casanova,” Le Ral said with a wry smile as he signaled to the bartender. I winced at the nickname I’d earned at UNC. I didn’t even know how it’d started but it’d stuck. Why I’d told the guys after a game a couple months back beat the hell out of me but it was better they knew the stupid shit about me rather than the real stuff. When I’d entered the bar, getting hammered had sounded like a great idea. Now, I just wanted to know where Amy was and what she was doing but Le Ral was over my brooding and frankly, he had a point. It was Friday, nightlife in Barcelona was one of the best and I was done thinking about anything too serious. I wanted to loosen up and maybe not think about Amy for a few minutes. An hour and a half later we were humming with the perfect amount of alcohol coursing through us. I had the kind of buzz going that made me think I told the best stories of all time. No, fuck that, I did tell the best stories of all time. As I was wrapping up one of my best travel stories to Le Ral, I

couldn’t believe who was fucking strolling right into Fire Shots at 10 p.m. I elbowed Le Ral. “Looks like our friends made it.” He gave a small grunt and muttered something under his breath but all I focused on was Amy. She was normally gorgeous, but tonight she looked absolutely stunning. She wore black boots and a tight red dress with a neckline that plunged low enough that I was able to snipe some solid cleavage from twenty feet away. Just another one of my secret talents. The girls made eye contact with us, which was hard not to do considering we were easily the tallest guys in the bar. They bopped their way toward us through the bar like they were the belles of the ball. Which, being honest, they were. Every step Amy took toward us was fuel for my instaboner. “Hello hello, look who it is!” Becca said before she gave me a light hug. She then moved on to Le Ral, who she obviously lingered on for a few more seconds then she had with me. “Hey!” Amy quipped chirpily, her cute brown eyes lingering on mine for a moment. She did the opposite of Becca, spending more time hugging me than she had Le Ral. I wrapped my arms around her and gripped her tight. Fuck, her warm body felt good against mine. I tipped my nose toward her and inhaled her scent, which was

tropical and smelled like what I could only describe as hot girl. I rested my chin on her head for a moment. Funny, but this was the first time I’d actually gotten to touch her since our little debacle during her first week in Barcelona. Remembering that shower moment just made things worse. And I’d be damned if our bodies didn’t fit together like puzzle pieces, just fucking right. I felt her ready to step away from me and I reluctantly released her from my hold. My hand remained on her back for a few extra beats. She glanced at me and smiled. Any thoughts about her avoiding and blowing me off evaporated. She seemed genuinely happy to see me and she wasn’t remotely drunk. I blocked out everyone but Amy for a moment. When I came back to consciousness, I noticed that Becca was staring at me. “Funny running into you guys here on my birthday,” she belted, in that semi-giddy drunk kind of way. “Happy birthday,” I said, and Le Ral echoed. “I do believe this calls for four birthday suits,” Becca said to the bartender. “Wait, what? You want us to get naked?” Amy asked, alarmed. She was still definitely sober. “No silly.” Becca rolled her eyes and flipped her blonde hair back. “The shot.” “Oooh.”

“Four Birthday Suits!” the bartender announced. I smiled as I distributed the four shots. “Cheers! To Becca,” we all said. We three took our shots back but I noticed Amy just sort of sipped hers delicately and had a forced smile on her face as she looked around. Eased by liquor, I felt like I was ready to get to the bottom of Amy. Well, the bottom of her personality at least. She sat next to me while Becca and Le Ral got cozy. Finally, one-on-one time. I pulled the barstool out a bit for her, moving it slightly closer to me before helping her up on it. “Amy, I don’t get you,” I said, confronting her. I needed to get this off my chest. “You can’t deny that you’re attracted to me. And I don’t judge. But seriously, it’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. What’s really holding you back?” Amy batted her eyes and ordered a gin and tonic. “Fine, you really want to know?” “I do.” And I made sure to keep my eyes on her face, look her in the eye to prove it. “Lay it on me, Squirt.” She sighed at my nickname for her but she answered me. “Well, there are two things. One is you and one is me.” I frowned. This was new to me. A part of me wondered if she’d made a new list, one that was

even longer than the last one. “Meaning…?” I prompted, very politely and still keeping my eyes on her face even if my brain wanted to wander elsewhere. “Well, you, Chandler, are a player,” she stated. “I’m attracted to you, sure, but how do I know you’re not doing this with other girls?” “I see,” I responded, not really sure what to say. “I could say I haven’t been hooking up with others girls but would you believe me?” “I want to believe you,” she said and I could tell she meant it. “But you’re a psych major, you of all people know people’s behaviors are ingrained.” Shit. I was just now realizing that a lot of the girls I’d dated weren’t as smart or observant as Amy. She saw right through me. That was going to take some time to get used to. So I deflected. “I won’t deny that I’ve been with other girls, yes. But as I said, I’m not with anyone right now, and you just got out of a relationship.” “Right, which leads me to point number two.” “Okay. Hit me.” She took a long sip of her drink then exhaled. “Chandler, I’ve had horrible luck with relationships —especially with guys—for as long as I remember.” I thought about that for a beat before I said, “And?” “Attraction isn’t enough for me.” She hesitated,

looking down at her drink instead of me. “To be honest, you seem like a bad decision. The worst decision I could ever make.” Ouch. I mean, I wasn’t a walking STD for crying out loud and I was very careful. No way did I ever want to get a girl pregnant. “You’re wrong. Hooking up with me wouldn’t be a bad decision,” I said, trying to understand what was making her so scared. “I don’t get how you think that.” “I don’t do casual. You clearly do,” she continued, finally glancing up at me. “Which is why I made the pact with you in the first place. You have a lot of options. I don’t want to be just another option. We’d hook up, and you’d move on, easily, while I wouldn’t, as easily.” Damn. She was right of course, on my casual take on relationships with women. And I did have options. I also didn’t hesitate to explore those options. While I understood her reason, it was also incredibly frustrating. At the same time, it was refreshing to have a girl I liked tell it like it is. I sighed, conflicted. “You know what, you’re right in some ways.” “I am?” She sounded shocked. “Yes,” I said, smiling a little. “Let’s just start out with the basics. I don’t know a lot about you. And you know even less about me. Let’s get to know each other better.” “Okay,” she said, hesitantly. “Where should we

start?” I thought about it. I already knew she had hippie parents and that she had a brother. “Tell me more about your family,” I said. “Um, okay,” she said. “I have one older brother, Samuel. He’s an architect in New York. You could say that we survived our hippie upbringing.” At this she paused and smiled before resuming. “My parents still live in the house we grew up in, just outside of Chicago, in Joliet. Dad runs an organic greenhouse and Mom has a yoga studio. We’re all pretty close, stay in touch though sometimes too in touch, y’know? How about you?” A tiny bit of uncomfortableness came over me at the way she described what, to me, sounded like a perfect upbringing. But this was my idea so I told her. “My mom, Stefana, married my step dad, when I was fifteen. I have a little half-brother, Billy. They all live in rural Indiana.” I stopped, just dead in my tracks and I couldn’t figure out what else to say. Quite honestly, I didn’t have the cheeriest childhood, and talking about it made me even more uncomfortable. “You’d said you didn’t know anything about your dad?” she asked, gently. “Nope,” I answered, shifting in my seat and ordering another Stella. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I took a deep breath as the bartender set my beer down and I took an immediate fortifying sip. I’d rarely mentioned this one little detail about my life that always threw me off my game. Most people didn’t really think twice about it and the more I tried to be cavalier about it, the more it had agitated me over the years. Amy picking at this scab was getting to me though. “Don’t be sorry,” I said, trying for nonchalance. That was how I rolled, easygoing and a lowpressure lifestyle. “We’re better off without him, as my mom always said.” “Oh.” Amy looked up at me with her cute little doe eyes. I saw no judgment, or pity, just acceptance and understanding. That relaxed me a little. “And your parents are still together you said?” I asked, continuing our conversation but glad it was off me. She nodded. “Married twenty-six years.” “That’s impressive.” Amy had been moving slightly closer to me during this conversation. Now I noticed that she was just inches from me. “Honestly,” she continued, “I know I sound like a spoiled brat, but it sometimes freaks me out. They were the perfect couple, and I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to live up to what they have.” “You shouldn’t compare yourself to other people.”

“They’re my parents,” she said, slowly. “How can I not compare myself to them?” “So what.” I shrugged. “I don’t want to be anything like my parents.” She tilted her head to one side, brows furrowed. “In what way?” “I’m never having kids, for starters.” Amy’s eyes opened up a little bit wider. “Why?” “A lot of reasons. I think I’d make a crappy father. And also, I think what you’ve said to me about my ‘reputation’ for being a womanizer…it’s actually true if I’m being honest. I like to keep things superficial. The inevitable breakup is easier for me if feelings don’t get involved.” I stopped for a moment because I was actually having a real conversation about myself that I normally hated doing. Amy was also listening to every word I was saying, like what I said really mattered to her. Again, also a new feeling. “And, I’ve had a hard time settling down, at least in college. But I have my reasons. I don’t think love is real.” She gave me a surprised look. “What do you mean by that?” Amy was like a little kid who kept asking me questions until she reached the center of my heart. But I felt comfortable enough to tell her. In fact, I wanted to tell her. It didn’t mean it’d be easy in the telling, however. I lurched slightly at what I was

about to say, but it had to be said. Looking at Amy, sweet little innocent girl, I had to tell her the truth, try and open up. Truly, for both our sakes. This wasn’t a topic I often touched. Hell, I almost never talked about him. I took another sip of my drink, and let the alcohol linger on my throat. “You ready to go down the rabbit hole, Squirt?” I asked. She looked me right in the eye. “Try me.”

ELEVEN CHANDLER

I

almost never brought up my father, and with good reason. I didn’t know him but I hated him. The way Amy looked at me though, with her kind brown eyes. I could feel her genuine concern. After all the cardboard blondes I’d been dating lately, it was a fucking relief. “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.” She put a hand on my forearm. “But I can tell something’s bothering you.” “No, it’s fine.” I took a deep breath. “Growing up, my mom always talked nonstop about what an asshole my biological father was. I’ve never met him, I don’t care to,” I said, watching her face and wondering what she was thinking. As I said the words, I realized I hadn’t admitted what I was about to say, to anyone. Ever. “But instead of my real father, she ended up with my stepfather Bob,

and even though he was nice and all, it was so obvious to me that she didn’t love him.” It was hard to admit that I thought my mom and Bob were just a relationship of convenience, not love. It’d also made me accepting Bob as a ‘dad’ in any way impossible because I never felt like we were a ‘family’, just two separate entities slapped together. Amy’s expression didn’t waver. “No?” she asked, softly. “You sure about that?” I shook my head. “He’s been good to me and my mom, but for my mom, I think he’s more of a, ‘well, I don’t want to be alone so I might as well be with you’ kind of arrangement. He clearly loves her more than she does him but my mom has traditional views on family and marriage. She’s never been that affectionate or warm so it makes sense why she married Bob, out of tradition and security than being in love with him. Ultimately, it made me realize that I…don’t really believe in love. It’s for some, but not everyone gets it. And that’s okay. So I became a master at leaving but it works for me. It’s not to say I don’t enjoy being with someone and being with that person for however long we’re together—but having the stereotypical life, just to have it because it’s expected of me…my mom, after two tries, taught me to not hope for or expect that much. Why bring kids into that, and make them feel what I felt my whole life? I don’t see the

point.” I stopped abruptly, not meaning to say as much as I had. Ironically, as a psych major, I’d never selfanalyzed myself as much as I had in the past few minutes but as fluidly as I’d just spoken, I knew it’d been in me all this time, in the back of my mind and waiting for the right person to say all that to. It floored me, this revelation and I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. I’d been purposefully blind to it for years, on purpose, but not tonight. Amy placed a hand on my knee, her eyes searching my face. “Chandler—if your mom’s more reserved, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him any less then your stepdad loves her. She just may have trouble showing it. And to you as well.” “I’ve…honestly never thought about it that way,” I admitted, startled by her observation. The lens in which I have viewed my mom and her marriage to Bob had never wavered from the moment I’d cemented my thoughts on love, marriage and relationships. It’s affected me in every way. Amy inched closer and surprised the hell out of me by giving me a hug. When she leaned into my chest, a strong wave of emotion went through me, trying to tell me something. Except I didn’t know what. I wasn’t really sure I liked it but it was comforting, which was completely different from feeling comfortable about revealing my emotions.

“You look like you need it,” she said when she pulled back completely. I missed that contact and resisted the urge to keep her there, close to me. “Um, thanks,” I said, still not sure what I was feeling. I pushed that aside and focused on her, taking a deep breath. “So…you don’t want…a family?” she asked, tentatively. “Get married and everything that comes with it?” “It’s not for me,” I said, firmly. “I knew that a long time ago.” “Hence, why you jump from girl to girl,” she said, quietly. “Makes sense now.” I shifted uneasily in my seat because I could tell my confession had stumped her. “You probably want all those things, huh?” I asked, interpreting her words. I swallowed, nervous to hear her response. Not that I was thinking about deal breakers with a girl I hadn’t even kissed… But I was. She nodded, her expression hard to read. “And you don’t,” she said, her voice also taking on an unreadable note. There was this silence that sat between us. I hated it but I wasn’t going to lie to her either. The consequences of this conversation, I’d figure out later. Right now, I wanted the topic off me for the rest of the night. I cleared my throat. “All right Squirt. I told you some of my dirty laundry. What

about you? Or are you just all sunshine and wild dandelions, the same as you smell?” I teased. “Very funny,” she said, but she forced a smile but it quickly disappeared. “What do you want to know?” “What happened to you and your ex?” I asked, still very curious about it. “Okay,” she said, only hesitating briefly. “Have I told you anything about Scott?” “Not really.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “Okay, well, besides being a psycho, he fucked me up pretty good. And I didn’t even realize it until…” Her voice trailed off. I set my jaw, imagining a slew of awful things. “He hit you?” She blinked at me in surprise. “Oh God no. Nothing like that. He messed me up psychologically, I think.” She paused. “This is so embarrassing. And I can’t believe you helped me put this together.” My eyes widened in disbelief. I pointed to myself as I leaned forward. “I helped you solve what? You’re going to have to fill me in, because I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” She giggled, then bit down on her lower lip. “Fine. Like I said, it’s embarrassing but I’ll tell you. You did just tell me some really personal things, or else I’d feel funny telling you this.”

I sat on the edge of my seat. Amy had been so upfront about most things. What could make a woman like her embarrassed? “I’m listening…” “So the other day, when I saw you in your room…heard you saying my name…I couldn’t believe that a man could really be doing what you were doing and be fantasizing about me.” I frowned, and scoffed, incredulous. “Why the fuck not?” I raised my voice a little. I was actually getting mad that a girl as hot as Amy didn’t believe she could be the basis of a man’s fantasies. I wanted to know who had knocked her self-worth down so low. “And what’s this got to do with Scott?” She blew the air out of her mouth like she was taking a yoga breath. “So, when we were having sex, he would have to use porn to get hard. Sometimes. Well, like all the time pretty much.” My mouth opened, lips parted. If my jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. The fact that this guy needed porn to get off when he had the hottest girl I had ever seen was beyond my worldview. “So your sex life must have been pretty bumping, I take it?” I mused, off hand. She rolled her eyes. “Chandler. I’m being serious. Remember?” “Sorry, I know.” Shit, I was making this into a joke. The thing was, I was now in uncharted territory, where I actually cared about Amy’s

emotions. I was an expert at seducing women, not tending to their emotional needs. That was a mess I always left for the Beta males to clean up. “Go on.” She fidgeted with her glass. “Basically, he told me it was my fault for not looking like more the girls in porn. He thought my tits were too small and my ass was too big…or something. I don’t even know.” She was going for blasé but I saw through it. “I’ve always been pretty confident in my skin but for the first time ever, I felt ugly. He made me feel…hideous…and unconfident.” She said that last part in a whisper and chugged half her drink before taking a moment to breathe. “Don’t get me wrong, there were other issues contributing to our relationship going down hill but that was what made me realize he wasn’t the one for me. I haven’t even been distressed by our breakup at all.” Some serious anger surged through me at this Scott fucker. I loved women that came in all shapes and sizes. They all had their own personal strengths, of course. Amy was especially hot, though, and now that the fact that she was dealing with body image issues because of this dick grinded the shit out of my gears. Still, I had a question for her. “So how does this relate to you not wanting to be with me? I mean, clearly the porn thing is not going to be a problem with me.” I looked her right

in the eye for emphasis. She touched her hand to my arm, and the electricity thing happened again in my body. Her touch inflamed me at the same time that it comforted me. “He also told me I was bad at sex,” she admitted, nearly under her breath. “I’m afraid I’ll be bad with you.” I slammed my fist on the bar, seeing red. “This motherfucker had to watch porn to get it up and then has the balls to tell you’re bad at sex? For the love of God.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Now I’m feeling like an idiot for being with him for all that time.” “You aren’t an idiot. He’s the moron that didn’t deserve you.” My eyes darted to her hand that was still gripping my forearm. She squeezed once more and then let go. “Thanks for listening,” she said, her voice shaky and a little teary-eyed. “You’re a good friend, Chandler.” I wanted to hug her like she had me but that wasn’t my style either, not really. I wasn’t the affectionate type of guy. We just sat together companionably, drinking our drinks and enjoying being in each other’s presence. I’d never had a serious girlfriend and never took relationships seriously. Mainly for the reasons I’d just told Amy. Some of the girls I’d been with thought they could

change me, or change my mind about certain things once we had that discussion. That’s when I usually cut things off. I wasn’t going to change my mind for anyone for any reason. Considering the kind of example I had of what a wife and husband looked like in my own mom and stepdad, I knew I was a product of my own upbringing and Amy was right, some habits were too ingrained. I appreciated that she understood what I’d said and took it at face value. Not as a ‘maybe.’ She respected my choice and hadn’t tried to put her values on me. She wouldn’t be the type to try to change me, and that made me like her even more. Amy was special, too special for the likes of me but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to still hook up. However, this moment had more meaning than me just thinking about sex and nothing else concerning her. I knew she meant more to me now and that gave me pause on how I handled her from here on out. Amy took another sip of her drink. “How are you feeling?” I asked, looking over at her, referring back to our conversation. She smiled at me. It was a little sad still and my anger at her ex flared up again. However, I didn’t want him to ruin my time with Amy. She was opening up to me and I felt like we’d reached some sort of stalemate where we could stop with the games and just be us, whatever that was.

“I’ll live,” she said. Then she thumbed toward Becca and Le Ral, who were a few feet away from us. “Pretty sure I’m not in as solid of a drunk mood as those two, though.” Apparently, things were going pretty well between them because the two were sucking face like a couple of Hoover vacuums. “Well done, Mr. Le Ral,” I said out loud, raising my glass in his direction. I was on the road to being pretty hammered myself, but our serious discussion had sobered me up a bit. We sat together, shoulder to shoulder for another minute, and I realized something. I might not be with her tonight, but it would happen sometime soon. It was inevitable. And it would be fucking glorious when it did happen. “Hey, be right back,” Amy said. “Going to hit up el baño.” “Damn, your Spanish is on point tonight,” I joked. “Shut up,” she ribbed. She kissed me on the cheek, and again, the kiss felt like it brought a shock down through my entire body. I stared at her ass wiggling in her tight red dress as she walked away, and it was unfathomable to me how a girl like that could shy away from sleeping with someone because she thought she was bad in bed. Fuck that. Scott probably just didn’t know what to do with all that. I, on the other hand,

already had one thousand and one ideas about how I could handle her. As I waited for her to come back from the bathroom, I glanced around the bar. There were a lot of attractive looking girls, but to me, they were more like scenery then anything else. I wanted Amy. I wanted to see how she felt beneath me while I reached around and grabbed her ass, and her legs wrapped around my hips. Then I wanted to take her from behind and feel her ass cheeks against my hips as I slammed into her with my hard cock. Porno? I didn’t need any porno. Hell, maybe we’d make our own porno. My mind was racing with the fantasy of what I might be able to do with Amy if she wanted it as bad as I did when I felt a poke behind me. “Hola Chandler.” I turned around and the bad kind of goosebumps came over my body when I saw Norma standing there. She was definitely not who I wanted to see at the moment. “Oh, hi,” I said, unsmiling. I really didn’t want anything to do with Norma tonight. “It’s so good to see you again.” Though she spoke in English, her accent was thick. She plastered on a fake smile like she was so happy to see me, and gave me a big hug for which I braced myself. Even though we were over, I wasn’t going to be a jerk to her in public. Besides, I just

didn’t care. I did care if Amy saw us together and thought the wrong thing. Norma had the classic Spanish looks of long dark hair, lightly tanned skin and big, dark eyes. She was in a tight black dress showcasing she had a body she knew how to use—as did her mouth when she was making out with some rando the night I ended things with her. She had the smoldering look down pat and it’d lured me the first time we’d met but now it seemed more manic than I’d remembered. “Listen, I’m here with someone,” I said brusquely but quietly just to her. I didn’t want a scene. “Can you please leave me alone?” She flipped her hair and gave me her crazy eyes look. “Oh, playing hard to get tonight, Papi?” she cooed, leaning in close. The woman couldn’t take a hint. “Norma,” I said, speaking sternly. “I don’t know what you want, but I saw you sucking face with some random guy at this very bar just three nights ago when we were supposedly seeing each other. I don’t see a reason for us to remain friends.” Her jaw dropped at the strength of my words, but she didn’t move. In fact, they only seemed to egg her on more. Behind her, Le Ral took a breather and glanced at me with raised brows then behind before he looked at me again, like he was trying to tell me something. But I was too busy

fending off Norma to read whatever message was in his eyes. “You’re such a strong man. I remember why I liked you so much. But of course I’ll leave if that’s what you want.” She reached out and grabbed my bicep. I recoiled at her touch. I almost shook her off but instead had to put a hand at her waist to keep her from climbing up in my lap. “But is that what you really want?” she asked, in her most seductive voice. My patience was thin before, now it was gone. I looked her in the eyes, her face nearly inches from my own. “It’s what I want. Goodbye, Norma. Get. The. Fuck. Away.” I saw surprise then anger then resignation in her eyes. “Fine. But I’m always here if you want me,” she added, before swooping in and planting a wet, lipstick sticky kiss on my lips and some tongue before she finally walked away. I turned toward the bar and wiped my lips with a napkin. I ordered another shot just to get the taste of Norma off my tongue and lips. Odd how cheating turned an attractive person into someone you found disgusting and offensive for even sharing the same air as you. A minute or so later, Amy appeared from the bathroom. I smiled at her, relieved that Norma was gone and I had Amy back. I felt more at ease in her

presence. “What do you think Amy, one more round and we’ll head home?” I reached out toward to help her back in her stool but the expression on her face stopped me cold. “No, I don’t think so.” She wasn’t smiling from the eyes like the way she had been before she left for the bathroom. In fact, that telltale shine to her eyes told me she was upset. “You feeling okay?” I asked, concerned, but immediately picking up on her vibe. I wondered if she’d had too much to drink but she’d barely had anything other than a sip of a shot and she still had half of her gin and tonic left. She had her eyes down, digging into her purse. “I don’t think so,” she murmured, and she really did sound a little sick. “I think I’m going to leave here pretty soon.” I put my hand out to her shoulder. She called to the bartender for her tab. I also tagged the bartender’s eye and signaled to get mine ready as well. “What can I do?” I asked, getting ready to leave with her. “Nothing,” she replied, shrugging my hand off. “You and Le Ral should stay.” Whoa. My mind was reeling at her sudden cold shoulder. “Why are you upset?” I asked. She didn’t look at me. “I’m not upset,” she said, her voice hoarse. She wouldn’t look at me after she

signed the credit card slip and walked over to Becca and Le Ral, who’d gone back to making out. She tapped Becca on the shoulder, who came up for air and was smiling from ear to ear. “You ready to go?” she asked, forcing a smile. Becca’s smile evaporated as she glared at me and also closed her tab out. I just stood there, baffled. Something had suddenly changed in Amy’s attitude toward me and I didn’t know what it was. I would have gone home with her, especially since we both lived in the same place, but she was clearly sending signals that she wanted to go home. Alone. Without me. While I was stumped, Le Ral had a big smile on his face. Becca handed him her number with an equally big smile. I still stood there, leaning against the bar, dumbfounded. Le Ral looked like he’d just won the lottery and was waving to them. I didn’t wave or smile back because I was confused. “Women,” Le Ral stated with long sigh. “Aren’t they great?” Jesus, the guy was practically swooning. “Shut the fuck up dude.” I punched him in the arm. “Amy just bounced for no reason. Why am I so good with every single girl besides her?” Le Ral looked like I had just asked him the most obvious question in the universe. “Dude, she saw you chatting with Little Miss Fake Tits when

she came out of the bathroom. She just stood and watched you two talking for a full minute. Her expression seemed like she’d gotten punched in the stomach.” Le Ral imitated a slow motion replay of someone getting punched in the gut and going from extremely happy to very much frowning. I didn’t laugh. Damn Norma and her fucking timing. All the progress we’d had tonight went totally out the door. I looked at Le Ral. “Fuck.” “Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do now,” Le Ral said, sitting down in Amy’s spot and pushing me to sit back down in mine. “What’s that?” I asked, out of the mood. “Get shitfaced,” he answered. “Hey bartender, can I have four Ring of Fire shots?” He poured four of them, two for each of us. Straight bourbon. “Good call, Le Ral,” I said, shaking my head. How had I gone from one high to another low all within a span of a few minutes? “I am going down in a burning ring right now.” “Cheers man. Let the flames go higher.” I shook my head as I took the hot shot down.

TWELVE AMY

I

t wasn’t like I’d been surprised that some girl would come up to him and he’d be kissing her, his hands on her, and probably promising to hook up with her later. It’d been a wake up call for me. A hard one that had hurt. But I wasn’t going to be the girl that he had on the side and everyone knew it but me. I’d seen that exact scenario happen with too many of my girlfriends, and as charming as Chandler was, I wasn’t going to fall into his trap. I hadn’t seen him since Thursday morning, and was having mixed feelings about my friendship with him. Then, seeing him at the bar, it’d made me happy. For a few hours anyway. For the next week or so after Becca’s birthday party, I tried. I really tried to be comfortable with

and around Chandler. But the reality was it just confused me when we went out about town, or visited sites or just hung out watching a telenovela with Maria. We’d even met her new boyfriend and as a result, she was gone most evenings and even weekends. That left a lot of downtime with Chandler and me at the apartment. Alone. He didn’t go out a lot either, and to his credit, he didn’t bring girls home anymore. He’d gently asked me a couple times why I’d bailed on him that night, and I’d made up some stupid reason that he’d finally accepted without question. He was also honoring my dumb pact and I was wishing he wouldn’t, which was even dumber. The thing was that I really enjoyed spending my time with him and he genuinely seemed to reciprocate. We were actually friends. Even Becca had noted a change in Chandler that she didn’t understand and that we spent a lot of time together. We weren’t at that part of divulging all our deep, dark secrets but our conversations were genuine. He talked about his basketball, telling me all kinds of funny stories about his teammates and friends back in Chapel Hill. He bounced off his thoughts about what he might do after he graduated a year from now, if he’d try and work his way into the NBA or just play for one of the European teams. I talked about my family, my studies and my

own aspirations to go into marketing and PR, but I avoided telling him about my depression. And he avoided talking about his family. But we were learning little bits about each other that made it clear we had a lot of little things in common. It was just the big things that we couldn’t talk about. The things that defined us, at least, in parts. To anyone else, we acted like a couple. Minus the sex. When Maria had noted one night, just to me, that she thought Chandler and I made a wonderful couple, it hit me. Right to my heart. I couldn’t keep doing this: being friends with Chandler. And it just got worse. Chandler made me feel special with his smiles and laughter, and our conversations. I went for cool neutrality and civility. I had to take Ambien every night just not to have dreams about him. I actually looked forward to being numbed by my meds during the day. I started to spend less and less time with him. At some point, I could tell I wasn’t faking it that well when I was around him since I’d find him watching me too closely or asking me if I was ‘okay.’ Whenever I said I was fine, which was every time with a bright smile and quick answer, he’d get quiet. Real quiet. What made it worse was that he tried to cheer me up. I wondered where asshole Chandler had gone, it was weird.

But even in my numbed state, I knew we were impossible. We wanted opposite things. Not to mention his likely rejection if he found out about my depression. It was patently obvious that the playboy in him would never go away because that’s how he wanted things. Chandler had already decided his ways and I could tell from the way he’d stated things that no one and nothing was going to change his mind. I could easily like him even more because despite everything, he was a good guy and I’d never felt so comfortable talking about stuff to him. He listened, and he had answers and a response—some I didn’t like—but he stood by them. I could respect his decisions. I didn’t have a choice other than to not let him hurt me. By mid-May, I started to avoid Chandler all together. He let me but not without a fight, at first. In hindsight, I was silly to think I’d be able to friend zone him. But it was equally silly to believe I could truly have a man like him all to myself. I knew I had to sever ties before I got more attached even as I knew it might be too late. Sure, Chandler was sexy as all hell. Quite possibly the sexiest man I’d ever met and he would probably try to wear me down just for the game of it. I thought, perhaps, getting to know him would lead me to discover the human flaws about him, but in the end, they only drew me in closer.

Becca’s birthday night was the pinnacle of us trying to get closer to one another. After another week, he finally got the point. We both seemed to avoid each other in Doña Maria’s apartment as much as we could. I’d wake up early and be in bed early; Chandler would wake up late and stay out late. The encounters we did have were during the family dinners where Doña Maria would insist on us both attending. Which we did, for her sake. Chandler was the same attractive man, but he didn’t have the same flame in his eye as he did before I finally shut him down. I truly felt I was just being realistic. Just because I thought I had a little connection with Chandler didn’t necessarily make it so. After Scott and what I’d had to deal with, I just needed time to myself and think shit through since it was obvious Chandler wasn’t going to change his colors and I wasn’t egotistical enough to think I could. We are who we are and I wasn’t going to set myself up for any heartache when I could avoid it. I wished I had with Scott. Live and learn, right? Through the rest of May, we barely spoke. With Chandler and I barely on speaking terms, my mood had nose-dived and even Dr. Han had started showing concern during our Skype sessions. I was glad that I was an adult and she couldn’t tell my parents without my permission. I wouldn’t hear the

end of it. I was back on Ambien again to help me sleep and my meds kept me nicely calm and wonderfully numb. I put my nose in my books and finally started to pick up some more Spanish. I also spent as much time out of the apartment as possible, hanging out with Becca and making new friends at the university and from our program. My Spanish had really flourished and even Doña Maria was impressed when we conversed. I’d also stopped going to bars, not just because of my meds. The luster of liquor and that scene was gone. Becca, when she was going out with Le Ral, was always bugging me to go out with them but I hated being the third wheel and just watching them make out and be all lovey-dovey depressed me. Plus, Le Ral would always talk about basketball this and that, and this game they played against that university and so on—and it always included some sort of story about Chandler. Apparently, he was pretty damn good but I’d never gone to see him play. With his moves off the court, I had no doubt he was doubly savvy on it. There were several field trips that were part of the program and I traveled as much as I could since I had no clue if I’d ever come back to Spain once this program ended. I knew if I did, I’d just have Chandler’s ghost always there to remind me of the one thing I didn’t get to do. I didn’t travel outside of Spain too much, but there was plenty of time in

the future. My parents and brother were loving all the pictures I was posting on my weekly social media accounts and in my emails. Not once did they ask how I was handling my depression so I guess I was really faking it well when we talked. I didn’t feel depressed, not like times before, which was ironic since I knew my mood was at an all time low. Admittedly, my meds helped me focus on school and made it a little easier to stop thinking so much about Chandler. What I was feeling…was sad. Not depressed sad, just wishing things could be different. And I finally went on that date with Javier, and while I didn’t find myself attracted to him, Chandler was right: he was very happy to help out a brown-eyed American girl with her Spanish. I wasn’t sure what Chandler was up to, but while the late night visits from ladies hadn’t continued, he was back to his night owl ways. In no time at all, it was June. In two weeks, I’d be back in Chicago and Chandler back in North Carolina for summer training camp. It was the first Sunday in June, and I woke up early for some reason. I headed to the kitchen to start some coffee. When I stumbled in, I smelled the fresh aroma of the coffee already brewing and heard the percolation of Doña Maria’s coffee maker. I

expected to see Maria but that wasn’t the case. What I did see, however, was something out of a Tumblr page devoted to sexy morning wakeups. Chandler stood with his back to me, facing the window so that his body was lit up by the early morning sun. He wore dark grey sweatpants with no shirt, the muscles of his olive skinned back and neck on full display. His hands on his hips and his face turned slightly to the side, the light glinted off his strong jaw. I’d never noticed how broad his shoulders were—okay, that was a lie, I’d noticed— but I had to take the time to admire his perfect body as I moved my eyes up his back. The only movement he made was occasionally breathing, which seemed to tense his back muscles. I said nothing, watching him like a creep, again, for a full thirty seconds until the coffee beeped. Right before he turned around, I spoke, so he hopefully wouldn’t realize the extent of my gawking. “Good morning,” I said in an even tone. He squinted at me without smiling. “Morning,” he answered, returning my businesslike tone. He reached for his cup, drew another from the cupboard and handed it to me. As he did, his eyes examined me, staring at my hand and running up my arm and my chest before finally landing on my eyes. Something was different about him today, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what that was.

“You’re up early,” I added as I filled my cup. I motioned for Chandler to hold his cup closer and I filled his as well. “Yep,” he answered curtly, giving me nothing to work with. “So…why are you up early?” “I leave today.” A surge of anxiety went through me unexpectedly. “Where are you going?” I asked, a dumb question that I probably knew the answer to. “Going back to college. Summer league for senior year starts in Chapel Hill for me next week.” He nodded toward his bags, which were all ready to go in the living room already. Of course I’d known Chandler would leave sometime. And I’d been consciously avoiding him for weeks. So why did I feel suddenly awful, desperate even, now that him leaving was a reality? “You know,” I said. “I don’t think I even friended you on Facebook.” Leaning on the kitchen counter to half sit, he shrugged. “Not on it. Coach says it’s a good way to stay out of trouble.” “Instagram?” “Nope. I don’t do social media.” “Hmm. Well, how are we going to stay in touch?” “Why would we stay in touch?”

That one stung. I didn’t know how to react, so I took another sip of coffee and let the hot liquid burn my throat. “Because we’re friends.” “You’ve been avoiding me for a month and now we’re friends again?” “What about the friend pact?” He laughed, so coldly that it made my stomach lurch. His gaze cut to me, then right through me. “Friends…for a little while, Squirt,” he said, softly. Squirt. I was actually going to miss him saying that. On instinct, I went on the defense. “And me avoiding you?” I scoffed. “Please. You’ve been avoiding me.” His eyes seared through me as he took a sip of his coffee. “Fine. I admit I’ve been avoiding you somewhat. I know when I’m not wanted and I’m not into getting shot down every time we’re together,” he said, his voice flat. “But don’t act like you’re an innocent victim in all this. If you wanted to hang out you could have knocked on my door.” I gripped the mug with both hands, letting the warmth spread through me. The hot mug was a very different sensation than how ice-cold Chandler was being right now. But I deserved it. He was right. The strain between us was all on me. I had to fight the tears back. Show no weakness, prove that I was indifferent because it was the right thing to do.

“So your flight is this morning?” I asked, opting to change the subject back to logistics. “Flight leaves at ten. In an hour, Maria is taking me out to an early breakfast and then driving me to the airport.” “I see,” I said. The awkward pause sank in. I thought about heading back to my room, or to the couch. But the truth was as awkward as things seemed, there was a certain magnetism that still pulled me to him. I wondered if he felt the same thing. I realized, it didn’t matter. He was leaving. This was over. After a few moments had passed, Chandler chuckled lightly and shook his head. “You’re so fucking confusing, you know that?” I glanced up at him. “What do you mean?” He took a step toward me so that he was barely an arm’s length away. I could feel the heat emanating from his body. He spoke in a soft, gravelly tone. “You masturbate to me while standing in my doorway. You literally drop your panties and run. We make a connection—a real connection. I start to feel like I know you better than anyone I’ve ever met—and you run away. You’re standing here talking to me this morning, and you still won’t admit to yourself what your body already knows.” My hands around the mug got tighter, so much so that the heat from it was almost burning me.

“And what would my body already know?” I whispered. His eyes dragged down my face and landed shamelessly on my breasts. “Your nipples are hard as can be right now. Seems to happen a lot around me.” A shiver ran over my body. I actually looked down to make sure, and he was one hundred percent right. I was going to say, “It’s cold,” and make up some kind of excuse for it, but I knew that would be futile. There was no point in denying that looking at Chandler shirtless made my body warm. Plus, Barcelona in early June, was hot as hell. I just settled on the truth. “I don’t know what to say.” Chandler took another step toward me and put his coffee down on the counter behind me. He wasn’t yet touching me, but he was alarmingly close. He took the coffee out of my hand. He took a sip of it, and smiled. “Mmm. Tastes like Amy lips.” He set the coffee down on the counter, and pressed his hips into me. My heart beat like crazy, my ass pressed up against the kitchen drawers. Chandler grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head so that I had to look up at him. “I want to taste every inch of you, Amy, not just your lips.” “Oh God, Chandler,” I muttered. My hips— almost involuntarily, as if they had a mind of their own—began to move in slow circles rubbing against him through his sweatpants. Every time I

applied pressure I could feel his erection get a notch harder against my stomach. “Is this what you want?” I asked, through hazy eyes. He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me until I opened my lips to him. I made myself a target. He put his hand on the back of my head and brought his mouth to mine. We pressed our lips together for what was probably minutes but seemed like hours, tasting the coffee of each others’ tongues. “Fuck, Amy, I want you so bad,” he said, between breaths. “I want to lift you up onto this countertop and fuck you right now,” he whispered. “I could never be just friends with you.” I closed my eyes, briefly, then stared at the rose tattoo on his chest. Chandler leaned away for a moment, his hands still on my hips. “Chandler, I—” We were interrupted by a sweet, sing-song Spanish voice. Chandler backed away from me as Maria entered the kitchen, eying us. “Buenos días,” Doña Maria said, all chirpy. “¿Qué están haciendo?” Que están haciendo. I’d learned that somewhere along the line, and I knew what she was saying. “We’re not doing anything, Doña Maria,” I said with a forced smile. “Coffee?” “Sí, claro,” she said, and Chandler poured her a cup.

Chandler and I exchanged a look that I found myself unable to interpret. God, I wanted him so bad. Yeah, I might even have a one-night stand with him, if that was my only option. But a voice in me kept saying to hold out. For what, exactly, I couldn’t be sure. Our goodbye after that was surprisingly anticlimactic. I kept thinking we would have a few more minutes together, alone, without Doña Maria watching us. But the truth was, she watched us like a hawk—the woman knew something was up. After consciously ignoring him for some time, I wished we had more time—one more night together even. But an hour later, I watched his sexy ass walk out of the door, and I didn’t have his Facebook, his Instagram, or his phone number. I figured I’d never see him again.

PART TWO

Five Years Later

THIRTEEN CHANDLER - FIVE YEARS LATER

T

he signs that a woman wants you aren’t obvious to every guy. But if you look close enough and you're a keen observer, you'll see them. Consider my situation on a flight from Chicago to Barcelona a few days after the New Year. In front of me, and across the aisle, sat an attractive woman who kept glancing backwards over her shoulder. A cute blondie a few years older than me. The reasons I knew she was into me were subtle but I didn’t miss them. Every time she glanced back, she deliberately lingered her gaze on my cocky smirk, blue-green eyes, and olive-colored skin. I was reading a book, but since I’m an expert at peripheral vision, I easily caught her stealing glances at me.

“Jesus, when is the stewardess going to be up here. We are first class after all,” she huffed. I timed it just right so the next time when she glanced back toward the curtain, she found my eyes smirking back at her. “Good service is so hard to come by these days.” I grinned and shook my head. She smiled at me but seemed surprised. Probably because most guys these days are such pussies that they won't even talk to girls in the flesh, let alone openly flirt back. They’re so used to their electronic dating profiles, Tinder, and Snapchat, they feel more comfortable swiping left and right on their smartphones. Meanwhile, they are scared to interact with women in real life. Me? I’m an old school type. A regular Clint fucking Eastwood. I don’t even have a Facebook page. Fuck Facebook. “All I need is a drink.” She smiled wryly, batting her eyelashes and giving me an expression that had 'fuck me' written all over her face. “I could use a refill myself.” I jingled the ice in my now empty Jack-and-Coke and raised both of my brows at her. “There’s no one in the seat next to you,” she remarked, half question and half statement, grinning as she craned her neck to look over my shoulder into the seat next to me. “Nope.” I quirked the sides of my lips up

slightly. “Want to give me some company? Long flight.” “I suppose you might make a better travel companion then McDrooly over here.” She nodded to the man next to her. Only an hour into the flight, the guy was snoring so loud it made me want to personally apply a nasal strip to his face. I turned my legs so she could squeeze through and sit in the window seat next to me. She put her hand on my shoulder for ‘balance’ as she walked by. But I knew she didn’t really care about balance. She was checking out the goods, like a man running his hands over a car he’s considering taking for a ride. Call me cocky, but I wasn’t surprised. I'm a professional basketball player, I work out a lot, and women have always enjoyed feeling me up. Abs and arms are usually their top priorities, but once they catch wind of what’s below, that usually seals the deal. She eased into seat and slid her hand off my shoulder. “I’m Chandler.” I smiled, reaching a hand out. “Renee,” she replied, returning my grip. “Pleasure to meet you Renee.” Like she had done with my shoulder, she let her hand linger a little longer than was normal. “You have strong forearms.” She ran her hand up to my bicep and gave it a light squeeze. “And giant hands. Do you play a sport?”

“Basketball.” I smiled. She opened her mouth slightly, ran her tongue along her lips, and flashed her eyes at me once more as she slid her hand off my forearm. “Basketball. That’s hot.” Renee was attractive, objectively, at least. She had on a sexy black skirt and a blue tank top that hugged her upper body. I smiled again, and leaned back, seeing exactly where this was going. We’d chat for the next hour with some heavy flirting. The drinks would help lubricate the fact that—despite our mild physical attraction—we were virtually strangers. A stewardess walked by, seeming a little flustered, her cheeks red and her hair out of place. “Excuse me miss, we’d like to order a couple of drinks, please,” I said with a polite smile. She ignored me and continued past. A second later she stopped, turned, and looked over her shoulder with a delayed reaction. “I’m sorry sir, but we’re dealing with a bit of a…situation right now.” She chose her word carefully. “And I need to go speak with the Captain.” “Well, when you’re done dealing with that situation, we would love to get some first class service,” Renee chimed in. “We need some drinks.” “Right away, ma’am.” The stewardess made a sort of exaggerated curtsy motion, as if conveying that she had bigger fish to fry than our drinks. She

disappeared into the flight deck. “Well, that was rude,” Renee said, clearly annoyed. “I am certainly not a ma’am.” I noticed a slight bulge inside her cheek as she ran her tongue inside her mouth and stared at me with her big blue eyes. “Quite a Miss.” I stood up and stepped into the aisle. “Well, Miss, I’m going to get us some drinks from the bar in the back since it looks like we are in a serve ourselves situation. What’ll you have?” “Vodka tonic with lemon. No lime. Lemon.” There was a certain bite to the way she said the words that made me slightly irritated. But still, I’d get her the drink. “You got it. Be right back.” The Boeing 747 was a jumbo jet and had several rows of curtains every twenty seats or so. The lights were mostly dimmed except for a few night owls up reading. The passengers were a mix of Spaniards, tourists, businesspeople, and a few scattered students. Most of them surely planned to sleep most of the way to Europe. I saw one wideeyed guy with glasses looking out the window. He didn’t look tired at all. I wondered if this was his first flight or trip to Europe. When I reached the very last curtain I could hear a woman speaking. No, yelling. And there was laughter from the crew. I opened the curtains, and twenty feet away I saw the center of the disturbance.

She had long brown hair, a short stature, and was gesturing toward the liquor cart. I slowed my walk so that I could gauge the situation. "Miss, I'm sorry but the liquor cart has been closed for the night,” the stewardess said in an even tone. "That’s a lie," the brunette countered, swaying ever so slightly. I tilted my head and squinted my eyes, trying to see her face in the sparse lighting. Something about her mannerisms seemed instantly familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. And then there was her voice, which had this unique perky quality to it. I scanned my memory, but something did not compute. “If I have money, the bar is open,” she emphasized, holding out a twenty dollar bill to make her point. "It's not a lie. The bar is closed,” the stewardess countered. This was a bold-faced lie, since blondie and I were about to order booze. Not to mention flights didn’t exactly have cut off hours since we were over international waters. "It isn’t, though. Come on, sister. I’ve had a tough year. A tougher month. And another drink is going to fix all my problems. Trust me.” She said the words with such conviction that the stewardess seemed like she wanted to believe her. Wait. That voice. I swallowed and my heart

began to palpitate when she turned, briefly, I saw her face. Squirt.

FOURTEEN CHANDLER

A

fter all these years, Amy had the same fire in the eyes that had attracted me to her. Tiny, gregarious, and fucking

gorgeous. My heart began to pound like crazy. The one fucking girl who got away from me was back in my sights. And tipsy Amy was possibly the most charming of all of the versions of her I knew. “I can’t even have a drink if I bust out my best eighties dance moves?” She closed her eyes and danced as if the entire flight crew wasn’t standing right goddamn there. The two stewardesses were both cracking up and I could tell that even though they wouldn’t give out any more liquor to her, they found her pleading as adorable as I did. By now, several passengers were stirring and avidly watching the show.

Meanwhile, my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I felt old feelings float up to the surface. Ones that I hadn’t felt in years, ones I had pushed back and never visited. “Amy.” My voice broke as I spoke from behind, heard the syllables like I was speaking the words of a foreign language, so long since I’d said them. Sure, I knew a couple of people named Amy here and there, but the way I said her name was different. When I spoke her name, she immediately stiffened, then turned slowly toward me until she was fully facing me, her eyes wide. “Chandler?” She stared at me for a moment, mouth wide open, before she took several quick steps and ran up, and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh my God! Chandler!” She pressed her petite but curvy frame into me and laid her head on my chest, warming up my body. I hugged her back, looking down at the top of her head in utter disbelief. “I can’t believe it’s you,” I growled. “This is crazy,” she whispered, not letting me go. “Why the hell would you be on this flight?” “I live in Barcelona now,” I began. “I take this flight a few times a year. I was just back in Chicago for the holidays. What about you? Why are you on this flight?” She released me and I did the same, slowly. She

stared up at me, flashing her gorgeous brown eyes. She looked different. Still young—what was she, twenty-five now?—but more womanly. Her short body was curvier than it used to be. Her hair fell down around her shoulders. It took everything in my power to dissuade my cock from getting an insta boner right then and there. I smiled a little, patiently awaiting her answer. She looked as though she was thinking extremely hard, searching for some elusive answer. Finally, she spoke. “Chandler, I swear, I’m not as say as they drunk I am,” she slurred. She paused, looking away for a moment. “Wait. I don’t think that right came out.” I let out a hearty laugh and glanced at the stewardess that had been in first class. The other two quickly got the hint to go back to their duties and split. The serious stewardess had an eyebrow arched toward me, patiently watching our interaction. “Should I leave you two alone?” she asked. “We’ll take two waters,” I said, holding up two fingers. The attendant reached into the cart and handed me two bottles, but refused to take the money I held out. “Thank you sir. On the house,” she said, still looking grateful that I had calmed Amy down and had taken this problem off her plate.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I said before I had turned fully around. “I need a vodka and lemon.” She sighed. “Is this for that…woman in first class?” “Yes.” “Who are you getting a drink for?” Amy asked, suddenly very curious. “Just this girl…” “Dammit, Chandler, are you seducing women again?” I laughed. “Maybe,” I hedged. Amy punched me playfully in the arm. “Ow!” I feigned like she had hurt me. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Although it had been years since we’d last seen each other, she still recalled my playboy ways. In fact, she knew them better than anyone. “Aww, did I hurt you? Do you want me to kiss your arm?” she asked, sarcastically but rubbed my upper arm soothingly where she had punched it. I laughed and rolled my eyes. Taking the drink from the stewardess, I guided Amy to the front of the plane to join me in first class. When we arrived, Renee smiled at seeing the drink in my hand. Her smile, however, turned instantly upside down when she saw I had brought another girl back. “Hi! I’m Amy,” Amy said, and stuck out her hand for a shake. Renee reluctantly took it. “I’m Renee,” she said, coldly.

“Nice to meet you Renee.” Amy’s tone was bubbly. Amy looked at me. Then at Renee. And then me again. “Ohhhhh,” she said. “Your friend, I assume?” She leaned into my ear and whispered. “Is this one of your muchas chicas?” “We just met, actually,” I said, lamely. Amy gave me a look, half smirking and half disbelieving. I was about to ask Renee to politely leave, but Amy jumped right in. “Hey,” she said, turned towards Renee. “So I know you probably thought you were going to hook up with my friend Chandler here. Or at least get his number for when we touch down in Barcelona. And I wouldn’t say I blame you. But we are old friends who are coincidentally on this flight, and we have some catching up to do. So I’m gonna have to ask you for that seat. Thanks for understanding.” I thought about jumping in, but Drunk Amy had summed up everything pretty succinctly. I nodded, nothing more to add. She looked so offended that all she could do was glare at me in a huff but she got up from her seat and stomped back to hers. “Sorry,” Amy called out. “You still want his number?” Renee looked over at us and gave Amy an icy look of death. Amy shrugged and took the window seat. I slid

in next to her. “You pissed I cockblocked you?” she asked, tilting her head at me but still smirking. “If it were anyone else, I might be,” I admitted, chuckling a little. I’d forgotten how blunt and brazen she could be in her speech. I kind of missed that. “But I can’t stay mad at you. Drunk Amy is the cutest cockblock ever.” She sighed and gazed out the window into the nothingness. “This is so crazy. I can’t believe I ran into you here, of all places.” “Well, I live in Barcelona now,” I returned. “So it’s not that crazy.” Her eyes rounded. “Really?” I nodded and sighed. Amy was quite drunk if I was having to repeat myself. “I play for Spain’s basketball team in the Euroleague. Going on four years now…” “Wow,” she breathed, blinking up at me. “I’m impressed. I never got to watch you when we were in Spain.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “You any good these days?” I laughed out loud at her teasing tone. “I do all right,” I said, then turned the topic back to her. “So. What are you doing here?” She glanced back at me, and I thought I saw her eyes tear up. The only time I’d ever seen Amy near tears was the night of Becca’s b-day bash, and, in essence, when we drifted apart. “I was supposed to

go to Barcelona for a trip with my boyfriend David. I was going to show him all of the cool places we used to go when we studied abroad.” Boyfriend. Of course Amy would have a boyfriend but it was like a slight gut-check. “And then what happened to this David guy?” I prompted, when she didn’t resume. Amy had always been upbeat around me— when we were on friendlier terms, of course. There were very few times when I saw her get sad like she was right now. She’d always had the kind of peppy personality—at least, what I knew of her back then—that made me think if she was sad, something was really wrong with the world. Instinctively, seeing her on the brink of crying actually made me a little sad, too. I reached for her hand and held it, lacing our fingers together. She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them after taking a deep breath. “What was I saying?” “You were talking about David. Trip to Barcelona. What happened?” I gave her hand a squeeze. She squeezed back, which made me smile. “Oh right. Sorry…” She blinked a few times, eyes darting to our joined hands. “Well, I was thinking that David was ‘the one’,” she said, her expression grim and unhappy. “So I bought us tickets to Barcelona for our six month anniversary. I even left work early to surprise him at his

apartment. And then I walked in on him fucking his forty-year-old manager from the bar where he works in downtown Chicago.” My anger, on her behalf, was immediate. “What the fuck?! What an asshole!” “It’s okay.” The tears were gone, and now she was just fiery-eyed and pissed. “I’m glad I found out now as opposed to ten years from now. But I wasn’t about to let my ticket to Barcelona go to waste.” Now there was the Amy I remembered. “And now you’re here getting drunk on a plane…” I let the corners of my mouth slide up in a tiny smile. “Yep. My life is pretty much a Dierks Bentley song right now. I’ve got this 737 rocking like a G6.” She laughed but disengaged her hand from my hold, running her hand through her hair. I instantly missed the feel of her skin against mine. And fuck, that hair. She smelled so good. Just as good as she did years ago. Better. She slanted me a look. “I forgot how funny you are. But seriously, you have no idea how good it feels to just say this stuff. To someone who cares. And listens. I’ve always liked that about you.” I laughed at how crazy this was, this random chance encounter five years later. If I hadn’t boarded last, I would have likely seen her at O’Hare in the waiting area. The possibility of missing her when we landed in Barcelona was fifty-

fifty in the baggage claim, so thank god for Renee and her need of vodka tonic with lemon. “Can I record you saying that so I can play it back to…oh I don’t know…every girl I’ve ever dated?” I teased. “Shut up.” She punched my arm playfully again. “You’re a good guy. Even if you can’t hold down a girlfriend for more than a few weeks.” She was right about one thing: after all this time, I still did care. About her, a lot. More then I thought I would have with five years between us. The pain of how we drifted had always haunted me. But sitting here, with her next to me, the connection and chemistry we’d had from the beginning was still there, so visceral, it nearly knocked the wind out of me. I took a moment, and stared at this face I’ve missed and inventoried the changes. She eyed me back. “What are you staring at?” she asked, a little shyly. “Just that you’re as gorgeous as I remembered you,” I stated, simply. Truthfully. For all my propensity for bullshitting, when it came to Amy, I just couldn’t. She looked away, blushing and licking her lips. She could deny it, like she tried to do five years ago, but I knew she felt it too. This tension between us. “And, I, um…I…” she said, stumbling over her words. “I bet all your ten-night stand—”

“Ten-night stands?” I interrupted, giving her look. I groaned. “Seriously?” She laughed. “Yeah. You’re not a one-night stand guy. But you’re not a relationship guy either. You do ten-night stands then move onto some other girl.” She poked me in the chest. “Come on. Like your lady friend when I first got to Barcelona in Doña María’s house.” I thought about it for a second. Drunk Amy was Honest Amy, and she knew my habits pretty well. “Sounds about right,” I admitted. I guess I hadn’t changed that much in five years. “I’m glad you agree. I think I’m going to end on that tidbit of wisdom,” she said, yawning. “I forgot that one drink at this altitude is worth three on the ground, and I had at least two. Thank god I’m not on my meds right now.” I nodded, thinking meds, high altitude and alcohol would be a rather dangerous concoction. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.” “You don’t sleep on planes?” she asked, instead, clearing her throat and looking away. In other words, ignoring my invitation. “Nope. Never have been able to.” She gave me a cute, sleepy-eyed look and started to get up. “I’d better get back to my seat—” “No,” I said quickly, about to block her from exiting. I had to force myself to relax and not get aggressive and scare her back to her seat.

“What?” she asked, a little startled but not trying to leave me. “Stay?” I posed, more serious than I’d intended. “And we can finally have that one-night stand I’ve been wanting.” My smirk returned. It sounded like a tease but I wasn’t teasing. She knew it too because she stared at me for the longest time before finally speaking. “I don’t think I’m allowed to be up here since I don’t have a ticket,” she finally said softly. Like when we’d been in Barcelona in college, the smallest change in her was so obvious to me. I liked being able to spot these nuances in her expressions and moods like no time had passed at all. There was no awkwardness or unease—just familiarity, and a hunger to be near her again. “I think the stewardess still owes me for helping her out with you.” She made a face at me that had me grinning. “All right,” she said, relenting and settling back down. I watched, amused, as she tried to get comfortable for a full minute against the window without success. Apparently, she wasn’t into leaning her seat back to sleep, like most of the passengers were doing. The seats were comfy and plush but I had a feeling she liked something more…comfortable. She finally looked at me, and I was waiting for

it. “You okay?” I asked. She gave me a sheepish smile. “Hey, you don’t mind if I rest against your shoulder? My pillow’s all the way back in coach and you’ll do just fine, I think.” “You sure know how to friendzone a guy,” I joked. She grinned then fought back another yawn. “Sorry for cockblocking you. I won’t do it again.” She snuggled into me. I loved the way her tiny head and soft hair felt against my shoulder. “It’s okay. You can cockblock me all you want.” “I’ve missed you Chandler,” she murmured, probably already drifting into dreamland. “Goodnight, Squirt,” I said, watching her for a few seconds. Without opening her eyes, she wrinkled her nose. But in a few minutes, she was fast asleep. It was like no time had lapsed. We were picking up right where we’d left off five years ago. The old feelings and memories battled within me, all the highs, and lows, too. Me thinking we were getting emotionally closer, and then her cutting me off. After I’d left Spain and returned back to North Carolina, I’d just tried focusing on basketball and graduating. Forgetting about Amy as best as I could even though she’d gotten under my skin and the ghost of her had always been there, with me. The way we’d said goodbye had always

confused me. Her reasons for instilling the pact had never made sense to me but I knew it had been her way of protecting herself—from me. I had realized that back then but had ignored it. It was later on that I fully realized her hot-cold towards the end of our program. I didn’t like that she felt I would have hurt her on purpose, even though now I realize that it was a likely outcome. That old Chandler wasn’t any different than this Chandler. There was no controlling another’s hurt but Amy had decided she wouldn’t risk it. And I couldn’t really fault her for that. Life had continued, and I never heard from her. There had been many times I could have reached out and connected but it almost seemed like it wasn’t meant to be even though it had felt so right. And, as I had seen, it’d seemed like she’d moved on as well. For all I knew, I was a bad memory, or no memory at all. So I focused on my life, and moving on, too. My old buddy, Tony Le Ral, had convinced me to opt out of the Draft to join the Euroleague after school. I had only marginal interest from the NBA but I was getting some lucrative offers from the European sector. While I was very good at the game and my stats were in the top tier, my height had always limited me. And you had to be cream of the crop to even have a chance in the U.S. as a professional player. So I played in Europe, became

a local star and got paid decently. The third choice seemed like as good an idea as any other. And, at the time, the idea of being in a different continent from Amy was the most appealing thing ever, like the distance would scrub her from memory. It was also a good way to keep my life uncomplicated, in general—just basketball, having fun, and women but none of them like Amy. I pulled out my book and started reading again. I noticed Renee in the front trying to get comfortable. I didn’t care that Amy had cockblocked me. Besides, this was the cutest cockblock ever. She was like a little koala bear snuggled up next to me. I had to chuckle myself as her breathing slowed and she slept on my shoulder. No one knew how to friend zone me besides Amy. And she did a damn good job of it.

I DIDN ’ T SLEEP the whole night, as was per the norm for me on flights. Mostly, I just thought a lot and enjoyed the feeling of Amy’s peaceful body next to mine. The hours passed quickly. I loved watching the sun rise on the plane. I leaned across Amy as she slept so I could see the beautiful combination of oranges, reds, and purples that filled the sky as the

sun crept out over the horizon. The flight attendants coming down the aisle with the coffee cart signaled it was time for breakfast. “I’ll take two coffees,” I said, when she arrived to Amy and me. The attendant poured two cups and handed us some cream and sugar packets, which I put on the tray table in front of me. “Mmmmm,” Amy moaned as she nuzzled her head into my shoulder. “I smell coffee.” “Finally coming to life, I see.” After a long night of not sleeping, my voice came out deep and extra scratchy. Amy opened her eyes and darted them from me to the coffee before she stared at me in disbelief. “Chandler? What the hell? How did I get here?” I laughed from my belly. “Jesus. You were that blasted last night? Here, this is for your hangover.” I handed her the warm paper cup of coffee, which she gratefully took in her hands, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down. “Wait, let me think,” she said, looking off and her expression extra thoughtful. “I remember I had a Gin and Tonic. And then that made me even more sad about David. So then I had another one. And then I got sad about my life in general and that Gin and Tonics were the only things I had left to make me happy. Which, ironically, drove me to have another Gin and Tonic. And then, apparently, I ran

into you?” I laughed out loud. “So you don’t remember anything?” Amy continued. “No! I don’t. Oww.” She winced, using one hand to massage her forehead. “My head hurts. I don’t even know what I’m saying right now. I’m still drunk.” She took a sip of her coffee. “But damn, I am really glad I randomly ran into you, bestie.” I sighed. There she was again, putting me right square in the friend zone. For all my charm, why was she the one girl who had managed to keep me at a distance, and never close? Of all of the women I’d been with over the past years, there was only one who I still hadn’t totally figured out. “Chandler, my head hurts. Can you hold it?” She looked up at me with pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. If there was a man in the world who could say no when big brown eyes like that looked up at him with a semi-sad expression, I’d like to meet him. “Of course.” I wrapped my hands around her head where she said it hurt. “That’s good. Mmmm, perfect,” she mumbled, eyes closed. “Where have you been, Chandler? I need a friend like you back in my life again.” With my hands wrapped around her head— which was a somewhat awkward position for me— she held on to her coffee. After she finished her

first coffee, I was allowed to have my hands back and we looked out our window, seeing Spain below us. We flew the remainder of the flight into Barcelona without saying another word. Side by side. Together. *** “So, where are you staying?” I asked as we walked with our rolling suitcases toward the exit of Barcelona-El Prat Airport. Amy wore big, bug-eyed sunglasses, which shielded her from the sun and doing more damage to her hangover. Even though it was January, and winter in Barcelona, it wouldn’t get below freezing and we both wore jeans and light jackets. “So, here’s the thing.” She paused and took a deep breath as we approached the automatic doors. “I don’t know. I bought these tickets for David and me a couple months ago, and he bought the hotel room for us. When we broke up last week, he canceled the hotel because he didn’t want to pay for it.” I looked over at her while we continued our way outside. “You didn’t book another place?” “No. I figured I could find a place easy. But I haven’t booked one yet. My mind has been all over the place this past week.” The warm air greeted us as soon as the doors opened. The warmish temperatures were a

welcome contrast to Chicago, which was currently in the middle of a harsh winter. “Oh, that air. It feels so good,” Amy said, inhaling deep. She dropped her bag for a moment, took off her sunglasses and closed her eyes, and stood with her arms at her sides with her palms facing out. I just stared at her, still in disbelief that she was in my life again in the flesh. “Yeah, it does feel amazing to be out of that freezing Chicago winter.” I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that it had been five years since we’d last seen each other, and she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Those soft, honest brown eye, the flowing brown hair, the way she smiled all combined to give her this aura about her. We had a lot to catch up on but for now, but I was content to keep staring at her like a creep. It wasn’t even her physical presence that was making the dirty wheels of my mind churn, thinking about all the things I would love to do with her in bed. It was her essence. She was a free spirit who wasn’t afraid to feel and to embrace the weird parts about herself. While she stood just feeling the air blowing past her, I got a crazy idea. But I’d be pissed with myself if I didn’t at least take a shot at it. “Hey, Amy.” Her eyes quickly darted up at me. “What?” “How long you here for?”

“About ten days. Why?” I calculated that out. Today was Thursday. That was a lot of Amy Time. “You really have been having a shit-go of it with this David guy,” I noted, going for casual. “If you want, you’re welcome to crash at my place for a few days, or more, until you find a hotel.” “Really?” She put her sunglasses back on. “I wouldn’t want to impose.” “I have basketball practice during the days anyway, so you’ll have the place to yourself.” I paused. “Well, you and Jessica.” I saw her face tighten. She swallowed. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” I laughed, enjoying her reaction. “Yep. Jess has kind of stolen my heart.” I winked. Amy sighed. “Well, if you don’t mind and she doesn’t mind. I could use a nap on a real bed to sleep off this hangover. And then I’ll get out of your and Jessica’s hair,” she said, tension still on her face and body. “Are you sure your girlfriend won’t be jealous of you inviting a strange woman into your apartment?” I gave her a shit-eating grin. I loved seeing Amy worked up. As if she wasn’t sexy before, when she got all energetic she was even sexier. “Don’t worry. I think Jess will be okay with you.”

FIFTEEN CHANDLER

A

my stood beside me as my keys jingled at the door of my apartment. I heard Jessica’s quick footsteps inside as I opened the door. “Jessica! Come here girl!” The sixty-five pound black Labrador retriever ran toward us with her tail wagging, nearly bowling me over. “Awwww. You missed me didn’t you?” I knelt down to give Jess a proper hello as Amy stood with her arms crossed. She still had her sunglasses on, but I could tell that underneath her eyes, she was rolling them. “This is Jessica?” “What, you don’t like her?” She shook her head. “You let me believe the whole ride over here that you had finally gotten a girlfriend.” I arched an eyebrow. “Aww. Are you

disappointed? She’s so cute though.” “Yes, I am disappointed.” she said. She started sniffling a little bit. “I just, I can’t believe that you would lie to me like that…” “Oh shit,” I muttered, taken aback. I stood up. “I’m sorry, Amy. I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought I’d play a harmless prank on you.” Amy took off her sunglasses and looked like she was about to launch into full crying mode, her face buried in her hands. I put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her but then she looked up at me and within seconds changed her frown into a giant smile. “Gotcha.” She winked. I removed my hand. My jaw dropped, then I laughed. “Nicely played,” I conceded. Amy still had the ability to stay one step ahead of me, and there was no doubting she’d flustered me. Maybe it was how angelic she seemed on the outside, but I always forget what a little devil she could be when she wanted. I shook my head with a grin. “I know. Thank you. I’ll see you at the Oscars.” She took a bow. Jessica trotted over to Amy, wagging her tail furiously. Amy obliged by scratching her head, which Jessica loved. “My girlfriend likes you,” I joked. She looked up, raising a brow. “Well, if you did have a girlfriend and were flirting with that woman

in first class, I might have really punched you.” I gave her a sheepish grin. “I’d let you,” I told her, honestly. “No way would I ever do that.” Amy nodded, appeased with my answer. I watched her and Jess with a smile, pleased that they liked each other. My dog was kind of picky. “I think you have her approval, so I guess I can let you stay.” She laughed lightly then straightened up when her phone pinged. She dug it out of her purse she’d dropped on the floor, “My dad,” she said, waving it at me and moving about my place leisurely as she had a quiet but quick conversation. “Everything okay?” I asked when she put her phone in her back pocket. “Dad’s just making sure I landed safely,” she said, looking over her shoulder at me. I followed Amy the way Jess was following me and probably watching me just as intently I was watching Amy. She looked everywhere, lingered on this and that, taking in my place like she was committing it to memory. At the entertainment unit, she picked up a picture frame of my family. I walked over to her, Jess at my heels. “That was right before I left for UNC,” I told her, taking the picture and putting it back. “You look so young,” she said, softly. I smiled, glancing at each face in the photo. Bob and Billy were grinning. Me and my mom, not

so much. It was a weird picture but I didn’t have very many photographs of ‘family moments’. “Your mom is Stefana, right?” she asked, looking up at me. I nodded, surprised she remembered. “Yep. Bob and Billy,” I added, pointing to each person. “You and your mom look a little grim…” she observed. “Mom’s never been…very expressive,” I said, wondering how Amy always went to places about me and my past that I didn’t like talking about. “You’re not close to your family,” she stated, with a slight frown. “I remember that…” I felt a slight pang in my chest. It’d always been a touchy subject for me back then, and right now, and even right now I had trouble answering her. “Never really have been.” I paused, frowning as well. “It’s hard to explain. But you’re close with yours.” “Hmm-hmm, especially my dad,” she said, quietly. After a second, she turned towards me, her expression considerate. “Hey. Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.” “Of course,” I said, shrugging. “What?” “This is kind of random, but…I’ve always wondered,” she said, carefully. “Did you ever find your birth dad?” That totally caught me off-guard. I rarely spoke

about my father, but Amy’s honest question blindsided me for a full minute. When I spoke, my voice came out shaky. “I don’t know. Honestly, no one has ever asked me these kinds of questions. Other than you,” I said. “Truthfully, I don’t think I’d ever want to meet him, you know? It’d probably be a disappointment.” “That’s understandable,” she returned. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…or pry.” She squeezed my hand briefly. “So…what now?” I sighed, relieved she wasn’t going to further pick at that scab. “You want to take that nap?” I asked, more than happy to move off the topic of my bio-dad. “I do, but I’m freaking hungry,” she said, looking around the rest of my apartment then at me. “Are there any places to eat in this part of town?” I looked down at my dog, who was patiently looking between us in a way that Doña Maria used to. “So, Jessica, you ready to go get some lunch?” I asked my ‘girlfriend’. The irony of this whole thing was that my dog was the only girl I’d ever committed to. She barked a few times and started scrambling around us. We didn’t waste any time, just leaving our suitcases by the door and headed out, the three of us. We didn’t say much as I led her to a local

place for breakfast. I couldn’t stop thinking about her question about my biological dad. The more I tried to force the thought of him out of my mind, the more it crept in. I didn’t want him in my life, I knew that much. My mother had said the man was a woman jumper, going from place to place. Apparently he had kids all over. I wanted no part in that, and I was ashamed to even think I was related to a man who did that to women. I have a lot of failings but I was responsible and honest at least. My apartment was close to the ocean, so we padded along the marina before we reached one of my favorite spots that allowed dogs. It was also a seafood place but every restaurant in this area served some type of seafood, and I knew Amy had an allergy to it. “Don’t worry,” I assured her, opening the door for her. “I go here all the time. They know me and I’ll make sure they know to be extra careful.” It was a seat yourself arrangement, so we went inside with Jess on the leash, and I pulled out Amy’s seat. “Sit, mi amiga,” I said. “Why thank you, sir,” Amy said, taking off her sunglasses. She looked toward the ocean, and got a whimsical look on her face. “Hey. You okay?” I asked again. She kept her eyes on the ocean, a faraway look

in her eyes. “I…I don’t know. Honestly Chandler, I don’t. This is going to sound stupid if I tell you what I’m thinking about.” “Tell me.” The waiter interrupted us to give us his spiel in Spanish. We nodded. I wasn’t sure if Amy’s Spanish was rusty, so I confirmed her order with her. “Do you want the same thing you always used to have for breakfast? An omelet with bacon and avocado?” I asked. “Yes, that’s fine,” she said, speaking softly. I ordered two omelets to the waiter and told him to have the cook check vehemently for seafood and no cross-contamination. When the waiter walked away, Amy had put her sunglasses back on even though we were inside. I stared at her and waited patiently for her to fill me in on what she was thinking about. I swear I saw her sniffle a little bit, which still seemed irregular for her. I tensed up wondering what news she was going to tell me. “Maybe my chi is a little bit off kilter right now,” she began. “I’m usually not this emotional, and for such stupid reasons.” “What are you talking about?” I arched an eyebrow. “Just listen,” she said. “When you pulled that chair out for me—just that simple act—I realized that in my six months of dating David, not once did

he open a door or pull a chair out for me.” “And that’s what’s making you emotional?” She smiled at me wanly. “Just let me finish.” “Okay.” I sat with my hands flat on the table. Jessica leaned into the side of my leg, as though in comfort and sensing my unease. “You have to go and act like a gentleman. But not even that. You even went and remembered my seafood allergy!” She sounded amazed I’d remember but there were a lot of things about Amy I would never forget. Even when I’d tried. Details that had just stuck with me when I cycled through the thoughts of my past. She went on. “I had to remind David every single time we went out I was deathly allergic. It was like I never even registered with him. Yet you remember. From five freaking years ago.” She angled another look my way. “And you even remembered how I like my omelets.” I smiled, leaning back in my seat. I reached down to pet Jessica, the tactile sensation of her fur soothing. “That morning we met, Maria had said they were your favorite and she’d been making them to help you feel more at home. She ended up making them all the time for us because they became my favorite too.” She blushed a little and that made me grin. “I guess some people are just naturally more thoughtful then others,” she murmured, off hand. I hated that she was wearing her sunglasses and

I couldn’t see her eyes, and the emotions that she’d never been able to hide from me. “This David guy sounds like a real piece of work, if you ask me. How hard is it to remember a seafood allergy and favorite style of omelet for your own girlfriend?” “Yeah, he is—was,” she self-corrected, “a piece of work, in the end.” There was heat in her voice and I could tell she was back to fiery instead of sad. “And I dated him for six months! So what does that make me? I must be a piece of work, too.” I grinned slyly. “Well that’s one-hundred percent correct.” She smiled back and shook her head at me. “Dammit Chandler. You are still the same guy, aren’t you?” “My bad,” I apologized, adding some serious dose of seriousness as I could. “Please. Continue.” “This is going to sound totally silly—I realize that. But you’re here and so you have to listen to me rant. But…I was thinking back through all the relationships in my life, and I’ve never had a good one. Not one. I’m great at relationships in the three to six month range, and then they go sour. But even then, I’ve never really had a great boyfriend experience.” There were many ways I could take this but I knew Amy wasn’t shy about any topic. I had to not

read into it unless she actually said the words. “You mean in general, or in bed?” I asked. Amy didn’t disappoint. She rarely had, only when she kept rejecting me. “Both, but especially the sex,” she said, matter of fact. I had just entered dangerous territory—sex was my favorite topic. Especially with Amy. “Uh… Never?” I paused for a second, more then dubious at that statement. “What about Scott, before you two broke up?” I asked, referring to her college boyfriend. The douchebag that had told her she sucked in bed. Amy shook her head. “I faked it most times with him.” I cracked up at that, pounding the table with my fist. “Poor guy.” “No,” she corrected, scoffing. “Poor Amy’s sex life. When am I going to have a good boyfriend experience, Chandler? The full experience, in and out of bed? Is it ever going to happen for me?” I sighed and looked off into the distance. “I don’t know…but I hope you do. Someday.” We sat in silence for a moment, contemplating. I had another crazy idea, but I didn’t want to tell her. We’d always been attracted to each other but Amy still wasn’t a one-night stand type of girl and those were the girls I’d always liked best back in the day. Still did. My views on my life hadn’t changed a bit. In fact, they were stronger then ever.

However, this connection I had with her went beyond wanting to sleep with her—I’d always felt like she accepted and understood me. There were other thoughts rolling in my head but no names for them. So I sat there grateful she’d resisted. Well, okay, only a little grateful. To imagine a world where Amy hated my guts… I could appreciate her logic all those years. I still didn’t like it, but we were here, now, together and in the city where we first met. It was, in many ways, poetic. She scrunched her face, and finally took off her sunglasses. “Chandler…you’re a good guy.” I held a hand up because this was the second time she’d said this and I didn’t want to disappoint her in my lack of growth. That would be selfevident soon enough. “Me, a good guy? That is very debatable. Depending on who you ask.” She gave me a big grin that I liked seeing on her pretty face. “Okay, you’re a good lover.” I nodded, as matter fact as she was earlier. “The best, actually.” “Shut up, and don’t be so cocky,” she responded, just a little bit playful. “I know it was a long time ago that we lived together, and it sort of seems like a distant memory… But this morning I was thinking…why didn’t you and me ever…but I’m sure you never think twice about it anymore.” She sighed, once again looking out the window. “You’ve probably had a revolving door of women.

No doubt they were all gorgeous, too, huh?” She looked back at me, an unreadable expression on her face. “You ever think about what would have happened between us if we’d just had a little more time? In some ways, I kind of regret not testing those waters. I’ve always thought you’d be attentive, make it good for both of us and at least that way, I would have had one good experience, y’know?” My heart began to pound as I guessed what she might say next. But before she could finish her sentence, a tall, dark, Spanish woman, who I unfortunately knew, approached our table. Why was I constantly getting cockblocked when it came to Amy? “Chandler!” she said with a heavy accent. “It’s so good to see you!” She stood with her arms open, right next to me in a way that made it look like an extremely rude gesture if I didn’t get up to reciprocate her hug. I felt Amy’s eyes examining me closely to see how I reacted. “N-Nina—right?” I said, nearly forgetting her name. For a second, I thought I had it wrong when I saw her expression tense a little, like I’d displeased her. “Sí!” she said, smiling brightly. “Nina.” “So good to see you,” I said, standing up halfheartedly from my chair. Jessica, at my feet, let out

a low growl. She didn’t like it when I hugged most women. Nina smiled and gave me another hug, and pressing her enormous fake breasts into me. I felt her hands roam and had to make sure they didn’t roam too far south. “You never called me back!” she exclaimed, a scold in her voice. “I was worried something had happened to you!” Nina turned to Amy, who she had strategically ignored seeing for the first minute or so of our encounter. She leaned across the table, and I cringed as she gave Amy a pointblank view of her cleavage. “Nice to meet you.” She extended a hand. “I’m Nina.” Amy flashed a brief smile and returned her handshake. “I’m Amy.” “Amy’s a very good friend of mine,” I said. “We were just catching up.” “Oh, well so nice to meet you,” Nina said, giving a slow, equally fake smile. It was a little calculated. The waiter arrived with our food just then. “Looks like it’s time for us to eat. Talk to you later, Nina!” I said the words politely but firmly. I needed to get back to what Amy was going to say next. There was no way she was just going to throw the idea of us being romantic onto the table so suddenly, was there? “Of course,” Nina purred, her hands running up

my arm. “Chandler, we must get together soon. Call me.” “Good to see you, Nina,” I said, giving her my best non-answer. She smiled toward us both before turning to leave. The waiter put our plates down in front of Amy and me. “Enjoy,” he said, bowing then leaving us be. Finally. “Sorry for the interruption,” I said, eager to get back to our conversation. I leaned forward, completely disinterested in my breakfast. “What were you saying?” Amy’s expression had altered again. She didn’t look sad or happy anymore. She just looked dejected, and blank. “Nothing,” she said, forking her food and looking down. “I had nothing else to say.” It really was like nothing had changed between us in those five years. And by that, I meant that we were right back to square one. Her rejection, and not just physically, would never fully be eased from my mind. For a few weeks, I’d had a real friend. Probably the best friend I’d ever had. As it turned out, even when I didn’t sleep with a girl, I still messed up the relationship part of things. I cut into my omelet, frustrated but not unfamiliar with this feeling. She was still the one girl who I’d stopped short of getting into bed. The

one girl that I wanted to sleep with the most, had been waiting for…and here she was. A second chance? Maybe. In many ways, I knew Amy would have to make the first move because me pushing just made her retreat. She’d have to be the one okay with going to the next level when I already was and I knew I’d always be wishing. Because reality was rarely pretty. Of all the hearts I’d broken over the years, hers was one I could never forgive myself for breaking. The truth of the matter was that I’d never be able to be with a woman like Amy. She was far too good for me. I knew it, and so did she, deep down and that, too, was an old feeling. And a reason I kept forgetting when I looked at her, or remembered those small moments we had. Like dancing, or going to the bar and having a real conversation. The way she listened to me, and how easy she was at telling it like it is. The sensory memories of those more intimate moments between us had been seared into my brain and they were as vivid now, as they had been five years ago. And it was all so pointless. We ate awkwardly, in silence. The fact was that in spite of the palpable attraction there had always been between Amy and me, we both knew it was still for the best to keep each other at arm’s length.

SIXTEEN CHANDLER

A

fter Nina’s appearance during lunch, our conversation took a turn for the more impersonal. We caught up on frivolous things—the things not close to our hearts but the things that would make us feel ‘up to date’ on each other’s lives. Amy had moved back to Chicago after college and started work for a sports PR firm. I sensed that I was only getting a small portion of the full story but with Amy, I’d have to be patient. She did admit that something felt off in her life, though, and why she had decided to come to Barcelona even though David had bailed on her. We sauntered back home, taking our time and letting Jess sniff to her heart’s content as we walked along the marina. “Sorry about our interruption at lunch. That was awkward,” I said. “Nina and I went on one

date a while ago. I didn’t like her though.” I paused. “Honestly, I don’t remember a thing about what she said about herself, or anything. We didn’t mesh at all, so it was a pretty short-lived relationship. If you could even call it that.” “Oh yeah?” Amy shot me a look that conveyed she was not impressed by my latest dating mistake. “Did you sleep with her? No, you know what, don’t bother answering that. I’m pretty sure I know the answer.” Her words had knives in them, and I wasn’t too sure where the animosity was coming from. I narrowed my eyes. “I’m sensing some judgment coming from you.” “It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t know, Chandler. I’m hungover. And not in a good mood. And seeing you with her reminded me of something.” “And what was that?” I asked her, sharply. “It reminded me that I’ll never…” She trailed off and once again, I knew I’d only get to hear half of it. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.” We arrived at my apartment and walked up the stairs to the third floor. “You’ve been saying that a lot this morning,” I returned, unleashing Jess so she could go take her own nap. “About how something you’re about to say is silly or stupid.” “I’m going to take a nap. Do you mind?” she asked, ignoring me instead. “Course not,” I returned, not wanting to upset

her more. I was really hoping this David guy hadn’t permanently damaged her self-confidence because the Amy I’d come to appreciate didn’t take crap from anyone. “I’m about to head to basketball practice anyway so it’ll be nice and quiet.” She assessed the living room. “Is the couch comfortable?” “Not at all.” I gestured for her to follow me. “This is my room,” I said, heading toward my room and flipping on the light since the blinds were shut. I looked around, seeing that Maria had cleaned up. “Your room…?” Amy echoed slowly. “You want me to sleep in…your…bed?” I looked over at her. “Why not?” I smiled. “And it looks like Maria changed the sheets for me. This room was a mess when I left.” “You mean…as in, Doña Maria?” she asked, confused. “Yep. We’ve always stayed in contact,” I replied. At hearing those words, the irony of it hit us both. Amy, of course, ignored that, too. “She changes your sheets now?” she asked, aloof. “When I’m gone she watches Jess at her apartment, then walks her back here so she can greet me the morning I get home,” I explained. On cue, Jess trotted after us but then lost interest in us and trotted back out. “Maria knows how much I hate flying home to an empty apartment. And

sometimes she does some other homey stuff around the place.” “Nice of her.” “Yeah, it is,” I said. “Too she bad left the city this afternoon for the next few weeks or we could have a reunion. She’s going to a part of Spain with her boyfriend that’s pretty rural and poor reception; otherwise, I’d call her up. I know she’d love to see you after all this time…” “Oh? That would have been nice, actually,” she said, rubbing her eyes, “how is she?” “Just had a baby boy in December,” I said, shaking my head but grinning. “Can you believe it, at her age? That guy from five years ago. Match made in heaven, I guess.” I don’t think Amy was paying attention to anything I was saying about our former host mother because she was yawning non-stop. I pulled the sheets and comforter back for her. “Well, I’m going to head to bed,” she said, sounding exhausted. “This time change is killing me. You’re not tired?” “A little. I’ll go to practice, then come home and crash most likely.” I headed to the door. Over my shoulder I added, “Have a good nap.” Saying nothing, she collapsed on the bed, not bothering to shut the door. I refilled Jessica’s water and peaked in the fridge. Doña Maria had left some Spanish tortilla inside as well as a note.

For my special little boy. She babied me, but I didn’t mind it. And her Spanish tortilla was second to none in my book. I walked over to my room to let Amy know about the food in case she was hungry when she woke up. “Hey Amy, if—” She was dead passed out, with the lights still on, holding onto one of my pillows for a cuddle partner. “All right then. Goodnight.” She looked so damn peaceful sleeping there. In my bed. It’s a Cal King and we’d both fit on it just fine. I tried not to keep thinking things like that but I couldn’t help it. Sex wasn’t the only thing I thought about when it came to this woman but it sure as hell took precedence over everything else sometimes. With Amy passed out, I quietly grabbed my workout clothes and changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt in my bathroom. Before I left, I took off her shoes, tucked her in, and wrote her a little note for when she woke up. With that, I picked up my bag from the closet and headed to practice. *** “We’re playing Serbia tomorrow,” our head coach said in his accented English. The twelve of us huddled before practice. “They are a powerhouse, and it’s not going to be easy. But if we can beat them, it shows we’re one of the best teams

in the league. If not the best.” He paused, then looked at Tony. “What’s our strategy Le Ral?” Tony Le Ral, our resident Frenchmen, answered, “We need to score from the outside, establish the three-point game early.” “Exactly. Spiros, this is a big game for you tomorrow,” he said, turning to me. “We need you to come ready to shoot tomorrow. Can you handle that?” “One hundred and ten percent, Coach.” I looked around at our motley crew of guys, hailing from all parts of Europe and me, the lone American, and had to smile a little. I wasn’t short by normal standards, but at six feet three inches I was the shortest guy in the bunch. We had a seven footer from Morocco. Le Ral was six feet seven. The Spaniards were all in the six foot eight range. Yet I was the guy who our offensive scheme lived and died by. It was a lot of pressure, but I had always fed off it. “All right, let’s break into drills,” Coach said. After a few hours of sweating, running, scrimmaging, and being yelled at by our coaches, we broke for the showers. “All right fellas. That’s a wrap,” Coach boomed. I was heading towards the locker room with Le Ral at my side when Coach waved me over. “Yeah, Coach?” I asked, a little antsy to get going. I hoped

to God that Amy didn’t suddenly wake up and get proactive about finding a hotel. I was really hoping I’d get to come home with her still there. “So Spiros,” he said, grabbing me by the arm. “What the hell happened out there today?” I frowned, a little confused. “What do you mean, exactly?” “You were playing inspired today,” Coach said, his accent thicker then usual, which only happened when he got agitated, or excited. “Like you had something to lose, for once. Usually you play well, but I haven’t seen you that energetic all season.” Not exactly a rave review of my performance this year but I knew where he was coming from. “Not sure what got into me,” I said, evading his indirect question. I definitely had a theory about what had me so worked up today. I didn’t think my coach wanted to hear some drawn out story about how the one girl that got away had suddenly chanced her way back into my life, though, so I stayed silent. “Well, whatever it is, keep it up.” Coach was grinning. I just nodded as he slapped me hard on the back. “We’re going to need that energy for this Friday’s game. See you tomorrow.”

“HI? AMY? I’ M HOME.” My voice echoed through my apartment as I rattled the door open. Jessica ran up to greet me but she had more important duties to attend to: scraps falling on the floor. I smiled, inhaling deep. Smells of home cooking filled the air. On occasion, Maria would cook for me but it was somehow different with Amy at the helm. “Hey you.” Amy’s sweet voice came from the direction of my kitchen. “Hey there,” I returned. I tossed my bag to the side of the door and noticed that her suitcase was no longer nearby but mine still was. I walked over to where she and Jess were. She was turned away from me, facing the stove, and I took a full few seconds to register that the sexy woman I was staring at was Amy. “You rest up?” “Yeah, I slept really well. Is that memory foam?” “Yeah.” Amy continued cooking, and I couldn’t turn away. Her black yoga pants hugged her hips. She wore a light blue t-shirt, and her hair was made up in a messy bun. Did she always have such a beautiful, round ass? How had I never noticed the extent of this before? I questioned it in my own head as I stood a few feet away from her. Right here, right now, my cock was urging me to grab her from behind and lay

kisses from her neck to her shoulder. I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips, trying to snap myself out of whatever this daydream was. Self control, Spiros. Self Control. She turned around, spatula in her hand. “Everything okay?” she asked. She squinted at me. “Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking about something my coach said.” You know, about how I was loaded with energy today. As Amy came back into focus, she caught me staring right at her tits. I could see her nipples through her shirt and I didn’t look away. I know, but can you blame a guy? She had on a low V-neck top, basically daring me to look at them. I glanced up at her face. Her look told me everything. Amy wasn’t dumb. “You’re not wearing a bra,” I said, in my defense. “Glad you noticed.” She smiled at me then turned back to the stove, as if my comment wasn’t a big deal. “You really take note everything about me, don’t you?” “Can’t help it. By the way, that’s a nice, uh, pendant you have there. A pizza necklace?” “I’m surprised you happened to catch that while you were staring at my tits.” She cocked her head over her shoulder at me, smirking at me.

There was no use lying to this woman. Plus, I wasn’t much of a bullshitter anyway. So I might as well full on embrace what we both knew was true. “Fine, Squirt. You caught me gawking at your boobs. I admit it.” I took a few steps toward her so we were only a foot apart. “I should bring up the time I caught you staring at my junk after you hid in the shower to try and stalk me.” “Oh, that’s how it went down?” She spun around and grinned. “Bringing up the past, are we? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who forgot to knock.” I crossed my arms and fired back at her with my own shit-eating grin. “And the impasse continues. I guess we’ll never know who wanted to see who naked that fateful morning.” She caught my glance, and we stared at each other for a beat more than we had to. How many times had we done this dance? I saw what she wanted in her eyes—me—and I don’t hide the fact that I want her. Then, now…here. I felt my cock twitch in my jeans. Fuck, that damn dirty mind of mine. “So.” I changed the subject, looking over her shoulder. “Making some Spanish tortilla?” “Your favorite.” She brushed her hand along my shoulder and bicep. It was a tiny gesture, but from her it seemed like more. I wanted more of her touch.

“You remember I like Spanish tortilla?” She turned around and shifted the sizzling eggs and potatoes in the pan. I could feel the warmth coming from her direction, and I wasn’t sure if it was from Amy or the stove. “As I recall, you like it with a heavy egg ratio with more eggs then potatoes, because it aids your recovery for basketball. Is that right?” “Holy shit, just marry me now,” I joked. Although I never wanted to get married, I was becoming more and more curious what it would be like to date her. Friendship Pact be damned. She paused before laughing. “What a crazy idea,” she deflected, her eyes glancing down into the pan. “Although, we would have great kids. Sexy ones.” “Yes, we would,” I said. And for a second, I wondered what our kids would look like. I shook my head at myself. “But I’d make a terrible dad.” She glanced over at me, her expression shuttered. Here I was, being all clueless with this one. Why was it the ones you really liked were the ones you couldn’t figure out? When it came to Amy, it was like all the rules I thought I knew about bedding women went flying out the window. She was a tough nut to crack. All I had was one, ten second kiss five years ago that had given me any small hope that she really thought of me like that. She spoke again. “You’ve got some low

marriage standards if all I’ve got to do is remember what food you like—” “Maybe we have equally low standards,” I said, cutting her off and staying far away from the topic of marriage as possible. I lightly tapped my fingers on the countertop. She gave an awkward and equally forced laugh before giving the Spanish tortilla one more pat in the pan with the spatula. “I guess we really are perfect for each other, two people with low expectations.” With her spatula, she pointed to me. Jess’s eyes were riveted but no crumbs feel from it. “It’s almost done. Ready to sit down and eat?” I nodded. “Great. Where is your dinner table?” she asked, pointedly glancing around my bachelor pad. “Cute,” I said dryly. “That’s real cute, Squirt. Jessica and I are a ‘dinner on the couch’ kind of household.” “Well then, couch it is!” she sing-songed, having found the plates and silverware and plated the food. We sat down on the couch and chowed down. It was delicious. Way better then my cooking, and even better then Maria’s, and I loved her cooking. Jess settled near me, whining. I tried not to feed her too much human food but I couldn’t hold out and gave her a little bit to keep the whining down to a minimum. I glanced over at Amy, watching us with

an amused expression. “You know, you’re really giving me the full girlfriend experience,” I observed. “Don’t worry, it’s only temporary,” she said, swallowing. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your style. But besides that…” She trailed off. “Besides what?” “Well, we still have the pact, and I’m actually glad for it. I think we both know it’d be a disaster,” she answered, picking at her food. I nodded my head in agreement but I didn’t agree at all. Of course she’d remember the pact. Were we really still talking about some silly drunken accord we’d made five years ago not to fuck? Just when we got comfortable and I thought I could actually honor our pact, the goddamn elephant in the room made itself known and we both realized that our bantering could easily turn sexual. More to the point, I still enjoyed just being around Amy as much as I had when we were in college. That flow between us was still there but our friendship had never been easy. Charged, electrical, potent but so far from any friendship I’d ever had. In some ways, that made me think sex with her would be even better. And more dangerous. But that didn’t mean I was afraid of the possibilities like she was. “I mean, that’s the only reason we’re still

friends now,” she said, breaking into my thoughts, and really trying to sell it to me. “It’s why we’re able to sit on this couch five years after we initially met. If not, I would just be somebody you used to know. Another one of your Ninas that you’d awkwardly dismiss when you were out to eat with your real friends.” I felt a little gutted at hearing that. “Hey, hey. Stop,” I said, ignoring my dinner for a minute to give her my full attention. “There is no way you’d ever fall into the category that she’s in. Even if we did hook up, or date.” She gave me a look as she took a big bite of her Spanish tortilla. “I mean, we would never do…that…” I continued, finishing off my thought. “Because of the pact,” she added. “Right.” We both looked down at our plates. Fuck, this was stupid, us just talking around what we both were really talking about. The selfish part of me kept thinking that if we just got it out our system, that maybe we’d both be the better for it. Then there was this crippling fear that I’d lose her for good if we did hook up and it did unforeseen damage that I couldn’t even fathom right now. On the other hand, who the hell cared at this point? We hadn’t really been in each others’ lives for the past five years in any meaningful way. We had both

chosen to disconnect and avoided each other because we had meant something to each other, not that we forgot about each other. It was clear we remembered everything about our time back in college. When she left me again next weekend, would it be another five, ten years before our paths crossed again, if ever? If we had to take the chance of losing each other for good, maybe it would be worth the risk. We ate in silence for a few moments. After five seconds more, I couldn’t stand it and I turned the TV on to fill the silence. But that just made me even more restless. Normally, I’d be into watching a Euroleague game and see how my competition was doing, but I could care less. It made my restlessness worse. “I’m done, let me get your plate,” I said, unsettled and a little pissed at myself and Amy and this damn ‘pact’. I needed to be doing something other then just sit here, next to her, close but so out of reach. “Uh, excuse me?” she asked, her eyes darting from the TV to me, almost reluctantly. “In the Chandler and Jessica household we don’t have a lot of rules,” I relayed to her, “but one we do have is, ‘you cooked so I’ll take your plate to the dishwasher’.” Finally, I got a smile and it eased my tension a smidge. “I like this household.”

“Well, maybe I’ll keep you around for a little while.” I winked at her, taking her plate and standing up. As I headed toward the kitchen, she said, “I should probably find a hotel soon. I’ll bet Jessica doesn’t like sharing you with other girls.” She added the last sentence with more force, and once again, brought up the fact that yeah, there had been ‘other girls’. Plates clinked on the island as I scraped them off. I glanced over, watching Jess love her up. Another first for my pooch. Amy was correct on the preferences of my dog—she usually did dislike the women I brought up here. Either Jess had some weird skillsets I’m just discovering or she sensed my attitude toward Amy was somehow different. Amy, still petting Jess, looked up at me just then and I realized I hadn’t said anything in return for too long. “You can stay here for as long as you need, Amy—I mean it. It’s the least an old friend can do.” I could see my logic was working on her. Thank god one head was functioning properly. Before she could refuse or even think about it, I switched topics. “So tell me more about this PR stuff that you’ve been up to.” Bingo. Her face lit up. “I was working for a PR firm for a while, but my boss was a lying, cheating gutless dick, so my friend Andrea and I left and

opened our own Public Relations firm with some seed money. We’ve been specializing in baseball players for now, so it’s sort of the off season for us in January. But we’re hoping to expand in other markets, not just sports since I’m not all as knowledgeable in that area like Andrea is.” My jaw dropped as I loaded up the dishes. “You started your own PR company?” “Yeah, a few months ago.” “Holy shit! Congrats, Squirt. Ya done good,” I said, impressed. “We should celebrate. What kind of wine do you want, Malbec or Sauvignon Blanc?” I grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard and pointed at the wine rack. “Oh, I don’t know.” She put a finger on her lower lip. “Are you sure you want to waste a bottle on me? Shouldn’t you be saving that for the Ninas you have over?” “Okay. I see how it’s going to be,” I said, but I was kind of glad to be back in our typical roles. Much safer, less dirty thoughts, and no bouts of despair. “I’m grabbing the Malbec, because I know it’s your favorite after that trip you took to Mendoza. And if you’re not okay with that, well, I guess I’ll just drink the whole bottle.” I sat down on the couch, uncorked the bottle, and filled two glasses. Amy crossed her arms and watched me as I poured. I set one glass in front of her, then stuck my nose in the other glass and

swirled it around. “Mmm. I love those tannins. They’re so…rich.” I nodded, very happy with my choice of adjective. “Shut up,” she said with a smile. “You have no idea what tannins are.” “Maybe not, but neither does anyone else.” I took a sip. “Mmm. Damn. Now those are some exquisitely sexy tannins.” I picked up her glass and held it in front of her, with an arched eyebrow and a smiled. She snatched the glass from me, and took a sip of the red liquid. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, savoring it. “That is delicious. No doubt. I can’t believe you remembered that story about Argentina. I don’t even remember mentioning that to you.” “Well, I did remember.” I held back, saying just that. I didn’t want to tell her I remembered every fucking detail about her. How she looked when she stood in my doorframe fingering herself. How she smelled when I tasted her for a sweet couple of moments on the day I left Doña Maria’s. She sighed. “Goddamn it, Chandler. I’ve had it with men. Especially men like you. Winning me over with your charming ways,” she grumbled. “What are you talking about?” I shook my head. “Guys like me…? You’ve never been with me,” I pointed out. “Exactly. But if we didn’t have the pact, you’d

probably be an asshole to me for not falling under your spell.” I laughed, loudly. “You’re killing me Squirt. You really are killing me. You’ve probably had more boyfriends then you’re letting on. They can’t all have been that bad.” She took a sip of her wine, set it down, faced me on the couch, and made a fist. “Okay, where should I start? Hmmm. Luke, my high school boyfriend—he’d get super jealous when I wore so much as a skirt, and wouldn’t let me talk to other guys at parties.” She let out her forefinger as a number one. “Scott, my college boyfriend—well I told you all about him and his trust issues.” “And how he watched way too much porn.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “How do you know that, too?” “You told me.” “Five years ago. Good memory.” “I remember everything when it comes to you.” As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I’d given away too much. “Anyways, sorry to interrupt.” She started up slowly, eying me almost suspiciously. “Well, good listening skills, I guess. I was saying how my post-college boyfriend, Jack, was nice enough, but all he wanted to do was play video games. Then there was David, and you know all that already. Other then Scott, he was the worst of the four, by the way.”

When Amy was done, she had the four fingers on her little hand extended. “None of those guys even knew how to dance. They all sucked, in the end, and if A equals B and B equals C, then A equals C, which means I also suck. By Transitive Property of Equality, I suck, Chandler. Math doesn’t lie. It’s the only reasonable conclusion I’ve come to. There is no other explanation for all my failed relationships.” I stared at Amy. She’d always been a little too analytical and regimented in her reasoning skills— take the pact for example—and her list of reasons. I’d always thought of Amy as having elements of a Type A personality but something else was off with that assessment that I’d never been able to figure out. I also recalled that getting her to relax around me had been difficult at times, but once she did, we just clicked. “You’ve really put some thought into this,” I said. “And I’m sorry for that. I get that you’ve had shitty boyfriends. But TPE?” “If I’m dating guys who suck, and by the law of attraction, I also suck.” She reached for her wine glass again, swirling the liquid absentmindedly. “That’s bullshit. You are the definition of amazing.” She didn’t flinch, indicating she wasn’t even remotely convinced. Christ, had all these guys really been that bad, or maybe Amy was just that

hard on herself? “Am I, really Chandler?” she asked, almost rhetorically. “Then why do I attract these shit guys?” “None of those guys even danced?” I repeated that detail to her. I needed an in. “No, they didn’t.” She put her hand on my forearm, and my jaw tightened. “I danced more with you that one night we went to the salsa club than I ever have with any of my boyfriends.” I took another slow sip of my wine and let her words linger in the air for a moment. “Fuck that.” I said, finishing my wine off. “Squirt, I have an important question.” She looked at me, all serious. “What?” “Do you have your dancing shoes?” Her eyes lit up like a puppy about to go for their first walk after being cooped up in a cage for a year. “Yes.” “Get them.” “Get them?” “I said, get your dancing shoes, and get your ass ready for a night on the town. We’re going fucking dancing.” “You want to take me dancing?!” At last, happiness radiated from her. I felt a rush of happiness at seeing her smile. Maybe it was TPE in action again. “Do you have all your stuff?”

“Yes! You’re the best!” She scooched across the couch and hugged me, pressing her cheek against mine. “I’ll go get ready,” she whispered, and that was the last straw. An instaboner sprung forth in my pants like a sunflower breaking ground on a fine spring morning. I was going to have to stay seated while this thing went down. She jumped up. “I’ll wear my nice dress.” She smiled, then took a few steps toward my room where she probably had her things. “You changing out of your jeans and t-shirt, or just going to go in that?” I laughed. “Of course not. You really do have to up your boyfriend standards, don’t you?” “Well, if you’re going to change, then why are you just sitting there?” she asked. “You can get your clothes from your room before I change, if you want.” “That’s okay, I kind of wanted to finish watching this game,” I said, glad for an excuse. “I get ready quick, anyways.” She shrugged and left me alone. I tried to imagine a whole ten days with her. Here. With me. Especially at night. Sure, I’d keep the pact. We would stay friends. I closed my eyes and thought of my great uncle Albert. Finally, my boner went down. If I could manage to keep my hands off her for even a week, then I was cured, right? No more

lustful fantasies or boners to worry about. I opened my eyes, staring off. Yeah, I was so screwed, and I did this to myself, this self-torture. I turned the TV off and stood up. Whatever I felt or was thinking, I was determined that tonight I was going to give Amy a night that she’d never forget.

SEVENTEEN CHANDLER

I

took Jess for a quick walk while Amy was prepping for the night. When I came back and fed Jess, low and behold Amy was still getting ready in my room. I showered, shaved, picked out my clothes for the night, and then sat out on the couch with Jess while Amy finished up. She walked out of the room—my room—and I was happy I was sitting down so I wouldn’t fall over. She looked hot as fuck. “You look good,” I said in my best Anchorman imitation voice. She wore an all black leather dress with a scoop neck to display her ample cleavage, which was like a magnet for my eyes. I swear, they’d gotten bigger in the last five years and I didn’t mind that fact. The dress fit snugly around her hips and the hemline reached maybe her mid thigh, if that. Her heeled black boots came up to

just above her knee. As for myself, I wore fitted dark blue jeans, lightweight black boots, and a black button-down shirt. I got up and walked over to her. “Well,” she said, smiling wryly as she matched my Will Ferrell impersonation, “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I’m kind of a big deal.” She sighed and ran a hand on my chest. “Ah, I love that you get my movie jokes.” I nodded, trying to focus on what she was saying and not her body, and what I wanted to do with that body. I darted my eyes off her chest when she glanced over at me, and they landed on her legs. “I like the boots,” I commented, sounding winded. This was going to be the longest night ever. “Oh these?” she said, demurely. “You mean my fuck-me boots?” My cock swelled in my jeans at hearing Amy say the words fuck me. I tried to play it cool, but I realized I was licking my lips as she turned around to grab a jacket. “Yeah.” I coughed. “Your ‘fuck-me’ boots. They’re nice.” Nice?! ‘Nice’ was my least favorite word. It doesn’t describe a thing at all. I arched my eyebrow. “I mean, they’re hot. Are you trying to get lucky tonight or something?” “Maybe.” She flashed a smile my way. “Maybe?” My eyes went wide, as I imagined all of the possibilities for her maybe getting lucky.

And none of them had to do with a guy picking her up in the club tonight. “I have to tell you Chandler, it’s been a while,” she added. “By the way, you don’t look so bad yourself.” “Thanks. Wait—did you just say it’s been a while?” I asked, knowing this conversation was about to get unwieldy. “I thought you just got out of a relationship. Did you not have sex with him?” She turned her head and sighed. “Oh, we did. And even when we did have sex,” she said, so conversationally, “it was always off, you know? I thought it might get better, but it never did.” I swallowed and nodded because I knew what Amy was talking about without her having to add anything else. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “No sweaty all nighters with him, huh?” “Never…” She trailed off and shook her head back and forth like she was trying to forget a bad dream. “But that’s a conversation for another day. I just want to go out and have fun tonight.” Fuck, Amy. No other woman had the ability to drop an innocuous comment about sex into the conversation so perfectly that I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to continue, or stop. Or to offer myself up to end her streak of unsatisfying sex. Jesus, the very idea of an all nighter with Amy was already playing out in my head in full color. In any case, I was beginning to realize that I would have to get

comfortable again when talking about sex with Amy since I may never get to actually have sex with her. “Well, that’s a shame,” I said, not sure what else to say. “It is.” It was simply and quietly stated. “Anyway… Shall we?” She smiled and took my arm I held out for her. We each grabbed our jackets and headed out. *** “The smoking pig?” Amy arched an eyebrow at the big sign of the bar we were about to enter that said: La Vaca que Fuma. “It doesn’t look like much. But it’s a gem, trust me.” She looked at me, then opened the door and peered inside. We could hear the regatón beat, still slightly distant. She leaned back on her heels and crossed her arms, which pressed her boobs up in her dress. “This is where you’re taking me for dancing?” Her tone was accusatory. “This hole in the wall?” Before I could react, she smiled and did that thing where she grabbed my upper arm again. Using my arm for leverage, she got on her tippy toes and whispered in my ear. “Because it looks fucking awesome. You know exactly what I like.” Even on the sidewalk we could hear the music through the outside walls of the venue. She began

to wiggle her body to the beat of the regatón, like she couldn’t control herself, like the music made her move her ass and hips like that. “Fuck me,” I said out loud before realizing I meant to keep that thought in my head. She had been just about to go through the door I was holding open, but she turned toward me. “What did you just say?” Caught red handed. I shook my head. “Oh, I just remembered that I forgot to pick up some dog food for Jessica. Which means I’m going to have to get some on my way back from the game tomorrow. I just hate worrying about extra stuff on game day.” “Oh.” Her eyes caught mine. We looked at each other for a millisecond too long. I felt her moving towards me. Shit, damn near grabbed her right there, threw her up against the wall, and felt that soft body of hers against me. But then she smiled and stepped into the bar, erasing that possibility, though her body brushed up against mine as she passed. I pushed my own ego aside, and reminded myself that tonight wasn’t about me; it was about giving Amy—the best female friend that I’d managed not to scare away—a night that she’d never forget. Inside, the place was only about half full, just like I’d planned. “Still pretty empty,” I said. “No waitstaff, we just order at the bar here. Why don’t you grab a

booth, and I’ll order us a bottle of wine. Sound good?” She smiled, and did that fucking arm thing again, this time giving my bicep a healthy squeeze. It seemed I’d have to live on those small touches forever. “Yeah, of course. You’re the boss tonight. I’m all yours.” What was it with this woman and mixed signals? “Cool,” I said, and this time I returned her touch, caressing her lower back ever so slightly. She turned and walked away to find a booth. You’re the boss. I’m all yours. I played her words over again in my head as the bartender opened me up a bottle and handed me two glasses. I can be your fucking boss, Amy. I’m a great fucking boss. I have some very bossy things I’d like to do to you. And then I just might let you boss me around, too. “Thanks man.” I handed the bartender a twenty Euro bill and told him to keep the change. He smiled back. “Your novia is very pretty,” he said in Spanglish, nodding in Amy’s direction. She was smiling and bobbing her head to the beat, basically dancing in her seat. “Not my novia,” I corrected him. “We’re not dating. Just my good amiga.” “Ohhh. I see.” He smiled and then leaned and

gestured for me to do the same. “She’s your amigovia.” “Amigovia?” I repeated, trying to translate that into proper English. “Amiga means friend, and novia means girlfriend, so, do you mean friends with benefits?” “No!” The bartender wagged his finger at me. “No. Amigovia is…your best friend who you fuck.” My eyes widened a bit that this Spanish bartender had just dropped an F-bomb. Then again, most everyone who spoke even a little bit of English knew fuck was one of the most common words in the spoken English language. “Amigovia is different than that friends with benefits?” I asked, for clarification. He nodded enthusiastically. “Now you understand, Americano!” I actually didn’t understand what he meant. Apparently, the subtlety of the phrase was lost on me. But with that nod, he headed to the other end of the bar to tend to another customer. I shook off the interaction and headed to the booth where Amy was sitting. Why was everything that was happening tonight seemed so weird? Then again, maybe I was the weird one who kept on reading into every little thing that happened. “Your wine, Señorita Squirt,” I said as I set a glass down on the table and poured a glass for Amy.

“Care to taste?” She swirled her glass and stuck her nose far inside then took a sip. “These are by far the sexiest tannins I’ve ever had,” she said, grinning. Chuckling, I slid in the booth across from her and filled my glass with the deep red liquid then set the bottle between us. “Thanks. People have always told me my tannins are adorable. It’s nice to hear them be called sexy for once. Cheers.” We clinked glasses and each took down a healthy first gulp. “What took you so long?” Amy asked upon putting her glass down. “Eh, bartender was explaining something to me.” “What was he explaining?” Amy ran her finger on the rim of her wine glass. Well, if Amy could easily talk about sex, so could I. “He was telling me what the word amigovia means.” Her brows furrowed, like mine probably had when trying to decipher the English meaning. “What does it mean?” “It’s like…amiga plus novia. But not like friends with benefits. It’s like a friend and girlfriend in one.” She raised both her brows. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal. I mean, I hope to be best friends with my future…” She trailed off, as if searching for the

right word. “You know. My future man.” I stared at her smile, which was all at once angelic and devilish. Then she leaned back in the booth and sighed. “Chandler, this was exactly what I needed. Just a relaxed night talking about stupid shit with you. Damn, I forgot how much I loved hanging out with you.” “So you think talking about amigovia is just stupid shit?” I asked as I refilled our wine glasses. We were drinking rapidly. College style. She gave me a surprised look. “No. Not really. Actually I think it sounds pretty great. I just meant…that I feel comfortable with you. With David—pretty much every guy I dated back home come to think of it—I always felt like we were trying to one up each other when we were on dates. Or like they were trying to impress me. And therefore, I felt like I had to impress them. And the result was I felt so fake. I don’t feel like I have to impress you, for some reason, though. We’re just ‘us’, you know?” “I do. I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same way around you. It’s great,” I said, meaning it. “It just makes me wonder, you know?” “Wonder what, Amelita?” I asked, waiting. Her eyes got soft at my endearment. “Wonder how you and me would be if we ever gave it a go.” I froze, glass to my lips. I took a fortifying sip

then set it down. She’d finally crossed the line. “Fuck, Amy. Of course I’ve thought about it. You’re sexy as fuck, smart as hell, and you’ve got a great ass.” She smiled. “You think I’ve got a great ass?” I leaned in and stared right in her eyes with a big cocky smirk across my face. “You think I really said fuck me because I forgot to pick up the dog’s food today? I was watching you watch through the fucking door. You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, Amy. I’ve imagined many times what a sweaty all nighter with you would be like.” I closed my mouth, but kept smiling. This time, she was the one who was at a loss for words, not me. Her chest rose and fell deeply, like she was taking deep breaths. “Fuck me,” she muttered, lowering her gaze and staring at her wine. “Amy, you’ve got to be clearer with me. Was that a general fuck me, this is crazy, or was that a please fuck me tonight?” She leaned across the table. “That was a ‘I want to break the pact tonight kind of fuck me’.” Finally. But she looked terrified at breaking her own rules. Even though I was getting exactly what I’d wanted since we met, I wasn’t going to rush her. No pressure, just take it one step at a time. “If we’re going to do this, Squirt, we’re going to

do this right.” I could see she was still nervous, but a smile returned to her face. “C’mon.” I stood up from the booth. “Let’s dance.” “Yes, please.” I extended my hand toward her. She took it, and I led her to the dance floor.

EIGHTEEN CHANDLER

F

or the first hour or so on the dance floor, we danced a more traditional salsa. That is, I led her in the four-step patterns, making sure I threw in a trick now and then to keep Amy on her toes. If this was going to be our night, I was going to make it fucking last. The woman could dance. I was sure every couple out on the dance floor was staring at us with how aggressive we were being. We’d danced before, years ago, and it wasn’t like I’d held back then. But this was a whole new ballgame. We’d crossed the line from friends to amigovias or whatever the hell we decided to call what we were. Every chance I got, I pulled her body in tight to mine, gripped the small of her back, my palm found it’s way to that incredible ass of hers quite a few times.

“I forgot how good you move,” she said, out of breath. I chuckled and leaned my head down a bit so I could whisper in her ear. “If you think this is moving, wait until you see what I’m going to do with you when we get home.” I swear I felt her goosebumps flow through her body. She just looked up at me, speechless. I led her off the floor. We needed a break for a moment to cool off and rest a bit. We headed to the bar and ordered two Gin and Tonics. We clinked our classes together. “To being amigovios,” Amy said before we both took sips of our drink. “To be honest Chandler, I don’t even feel drunk right now.” “You don’t?” “No. I’m drunk on you. I love fact that I finally don’t have to be discrete about feeling your bicep.” She reached out and did the arm thing again, more deliberately this time. “I’m happy I don’t have to be discrete about staring right at your gorgeous tits.” She looked at me with a smile. “You’re such a perv. You know that, right?” “With you, it’s hard not to be. It’s very hard.” “Is it…hard?” “See for yourself,” I said. “I dare you.” I felt her hand in my front pocket, reaching around. She smiled at me as she searched. Then her

eyes widened, her lips parted, and her voice sounded almost moan-like. “For the love of God Chandler.” She removed her hand and placing it on my chest as she got on her tippy toes so her mouth could reach my ear. “I’ve never told this to anyone. But you’re the only person who I feel like won’t judge me for saying what I’m thinking. And Chandler, I can’t wait to get back to your place so I can feel that big, rock hard cock inside me.” “Fuck,” I said, gritting my teeth. I was learning a hidden talent of Amy’s: she could match my dirty talk pound for pound. With every heartbeat of mine, I felt my cock harden. Shit. At this rate I was going to be walking around in the club with a full blown erection pushing it’s way out of my pants like a spring daisy. “It’s true,” she added, and then smiled. “I’ve wondered ever since I first saw you that day in the shower.” I took another sip of my Gin and Tonic and let out a short laugh. “What?” she asked. “Well, if we are in full confessional mode, I’ve definitely rubbed many out to the fantasy of going down on you.” Her eyes got all doe-eyed again. “You have? I mean, aside from the time I caught you? I’ll never forget watching you double fisting yourself and

saying my name.” “Yes. And tonight, you’re going to ride my face with that sexy pussy of yours. Got it?” “Fuck, Chandler.” I wrapped my hand gently around her hip, the bottom half of my hand falling on the curve of her ass. “It’s true. I’ve always wondered what you taste like.” “Chandler, you need to stop.” I scrunched up my face at her, confused. “What? Why?” She looked around to make sure no one was listening. “You’re making me wet, and I only have on a thong.” “Christ.” I looked down at my little Amy, hot as fuck, sexy as hell in her little black thing. “Amy.” The way I spoke her name was personal. It was meant just for her and only her, even though we were at the bar with a sea of people around us. She leaned her head back a little bit, and I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just acted. One of my hands pulled her hips into me and I leaned my face down to touch my lips to hers. Her lips were soft. As we kissed, she let out a noise that was half moan and half purr. After a minute or two, we came up for air. “Fuck me,” I growled.

“You felt that too?” Amy asked. “That was fucking insane,” I answered. “I’ve never had a kiss like that.” “I want more.” I could see the greed in her eyes, and I could relate. I wanted the whole damn thing. I was about ready to just ask her if she wanted to head home when I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Chandler!” I heard the high-pitched, squeaky voice behind me, and the smile disappeared from my face. I turned my head to look at her, though I already knew who it was. Bethany was tall, much taller than Amy, and all dolled up tonight. She had applied maybe three times the amount of makeup Amy had on, and just about everything that could be showing, she was showing. “So funny to run into you here!” she squealed and came in for a hug. I gave a quick one and quickly disengaged, including politely shaking her off me but she stuck close to me. I didn’t need to look at Amy’s face to see the icy look she was sending to Bethany. I already knew what she was thinking. Just this morning, Nina; and now, Bethany. Ghosts of past hookups showing up whenever Amy and I were connecting was apparently going to be my lot in life. “Um, hi,” I said, without any enthusiasm and didn’t smile. Bethany completely missed my point.

“You’re here with your…friend?” she asked with an air of disdain. I was about to tell her to take a hike, but before I could, Amy grabbed my arm with both hands and stared Bethany down. “Well, we’re not just friends. I’m Chandler’s amigovia.” “Oh?” She paused awkwardly for a moment, staring back and forth at me and Amy. “Well then. Have a good night.” Amy watched Bethany as she walked away. I felt the tips of her fingernails dig into my arm. “Another one-night stand?” she asked, her voice colorless. I read it all in the way she looked at me. She was remembering why she’d made up the pact, and why she needed to enforce it. “Forget her,” I said, trying for soothing but I could tell it just pissed her off. “She doesn’t matter.” “Oh? Is that it? So there’s nothing between you?” Amy let go of me and began to furiously suck down her drink until the straw was pulling air through it, and ordered another. I finished mine to keep pace with her. “I almost forgot about your revolving door.” I didn’t like the deadness to her eyes or her voice. It felt liked I’d wounded her in a way that I would never be able to heal. I watched as the hurt dissipated from her face and her guard went back up.

She started ordering drinks like she was on a mission, taking back shots like they were water. “Amy, what the fuck?” I said, alarmed. “You’re gonna get hammered!” She looked at me, and this time her stare was blank. She looked like a stranger. “Exactly,” she said, her voice cold. We’d already had a bottle of wine each, and several drinks. I’d drunk the same as her, and I’m over two hundred pounds of muscle. I did the math on Amy’s short petite frame, and even though she could hold her alcohol, I knew where this night was heading. She was getting shit-faced. She was going to drink this night out of her head. Erase the truths we’d finally been able to say aloud. To each other. “Squirt,” I said, gently. “What are you doing?” “Don’t call me that.” She glared. “This was a dumb idea. And I’m embarrassed.” Expressionless, I set my shot glass down, because there was nothing I could do at this point. I’d fucked up. And the problem Amy had wasn’t with anything I’d said or done tonight. The problem she had was with who I was at my core. Who I’d been for so many years. The guy who sleeps with a girl and doesn’t call her back. They guy who gives a girl the best night of her

life, or sometimes ten, and then gets bored and pulls the disappearing act. I couldn’t change who I am, and that was a deal breaker for Amy. I wasn’t going to plead. I wasn’t going to beg her. There was no sense in that. But, for the first time in my life, I felt a pang of something I had never felt before: regret. Because of my womanizing ways, now I’d never have the one girl who I could see a future with. The fact that I even wanted to attempt something more surprised even me but to have her, I’d have to be willing to give us a chance. And that meant something lasting, something more permanent. Did that mean the ‘forever’ kind? I wasn’t sure but for the first time, the idea of that appealed to me. Because it was Amy, and out of any woman I’d ever known, the memory of her had never faded. I knew that if I admitted that to her right now, she’d throw it back in my face. She’d say I would say anything to sleep with her when sleeping with her would just be the beginning. I considered taking another shot, to drown my own fucking sorrow, but I’d been down that road before, and it wasn’t something that interested me. Besides, someone was going to have to get Amy home tonight. I ordered a water and did what I could to

control the train wreck that was unraveling before my eyes, history repeating itself. *** I helped Amy up the stairs to my apartment, half carrying her so we could make it all the way up. When we made it to our floor, Jessica greeted us with her wagging tail. I led Amy to my bed and laid her across it. “Chandler!” she giggled, in full on shit-faced mode. I helped her pry off her fuck-me boots. Earlier in the night, I had fantasized about this very moment. But it had gone down much differently in my head. “What are you doing?” She seemed suddenly confused. “And where are we?” I took a deep breath and managed to get boot number one off her foot. That’s when she leaned back on the bed and smiled while she pointed her legs and arms toward the ceiling and wiggled them around. “Look Chandler, I’m a roly-poly on it’s back.” I chuckled slightly, but my mind was elsewhere. We had broken the pact, and for a couple of hours, it had been heaven. This had been the best night of my life. Until it wasn’t. “Squirt, calm down and let me get this other boot off.”

“Okay,” she said, and looked at me with a cheesy smile that showed all her teeth. She propped herself up, swaying. “Chandler. You’re sad,” she said. “Why are you sad?” I looked at Amy, the glazed look in her eye, and I realized something. She wasn’t going to remember a damn thing about what I said tonight. I might as well relish the fact that, for one last night, I had my old friend to talk to. So I might as well be dead honest with her. “It’s a girl,” I said, pulling off the other boot and tossing it on the floor. I sat on bed, watching her. “She broke my heart. Or, maybe I broke hers. I don’t know. You have any advice for me?” Her jaw dropped and she was suddenly concerned. “Oh no. Oh no! Who broke your heart? What can I do to help?” She crawled forward on the bed, kneeled next to me, and rubbed my back. “What happened?” I shook my head and sat forward. “A girl who I liked for a really long time turned me down. And you know what, I can’t say I blame her. If I’m being honest with myself—it’s my fault. And I didn’t see that until tonight when something clicked.” “Oh my gosh.” Her hand kept moving in a circular motion on my back. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift

around for a moment. When I opened them, I noticed her hand wasn’t on my back any more. I turned around. Amy had fallen back and was fast asleep in her sexy black dress, sleeping like an angel. Making me feel like the devil. I got up, poured a glass of water and took a couple of Advil myself, then set two pills on the nightstand where Amy would see them when she woke up. After I put her under the covers, I took off my boots, jeans, and shirt, and only threw on a pair of sweatpants. I grabbed a pillow from the bed and padded into the living room. Jess was already fast asleep on the couch. “Move on over little dog, this big old dog is moving in.” She grumbled as I laid on her favorite spot. “Oh come on, not you too.” She fussed, but moved to make space for me. I tossed the blanket I kept folded over the back of the couch and pulled it over me and tried to find my way to the Sandman, who had been so elusive lately.

NINETEEN CHANDLER

I

tossed and turned for what seemed like hours that night. I couldn’t be sure, but I think it was when Jess finally decided to jump down from the couch that I was able to fall asleep. Right as I was hitting what would have been my first decent REM cycle in days, I felt something warm touching me. I groaned and spun my body around so I was on my side. I opened my eyes, but didn’t see anything, so I closed them again. “Chandler,” the voice whispered. “That you, Angel Mary?” She giggled. “No silly. It’s me. Amy.” I must have been really out of it to not recognize Amy’s voice. I opened my eyes again, and she was sitting on the couch, still in her black

dress from last night. “Hey. Move over,” she whispered. I lifted up the blanket and scooched my body toward the back cushions of the couch to make room for her. “How’s your head feeling, Squirt?” I mumbled. She slipped under the blanket and onto the couch, her body next to mine, touching mine. Um, okay. This was happening. Our bodies were touching. Hello. “It’s okay. Thanks to those Advils and water that my amigovio left me.” I smiled, ever so slightly. “Hey, give me this,” she said, reaching back and tugging on my arm. I loosened it, and she brought it over her side so we were full on cuddling. “Amy, I’m sorry about last night,” I said. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, stopping me. “I’m sorry I flipped my shit and turned into Mrs. Hyde. It’s just…seeing her touch you like she did triggered something in me. I’m not usually that illogical but I thought about the way I found David cheating on me, and I freaked.” “Understandable. And I have a history of being a womanizer. It’s not something I can change, unfortunately.” “But…you’re not sorry about breaking off the

pact?” She wiggled her ass further into me. Fuck. Morning wood was on its way. “Fuck no. Even just that one kiss was worth it. No regrets. Besides, that pact was outdated.” Moving in a slow, circular motion, Amy ground her ass into my cock. I slid my hand from her stomach up to her hip and felt the rhythm of her grinding. She spun her body around so we were facing each other. Both of our chests heaved, breathing deeply. We touched our foreheads together. “Squirt. If we’re going to do this, I have to know that you trust me.” She looked me in the eyes and I held her stare. “You won’t get with anyone else while I’m here? You swear?” “If we do this, I’m yours, and you’re mine, and that’s the way it’s going to stay until one of us says any different. Be it a week, or longer, whatever you want.” I kissed her, briefly. “I don’t care what label we put on it. Amigos. Novios. Amigovios. Whatever.” If I didn’t do this with Amy, I would regret it forever. She let out a moan, and said something that I couldn’t decipher. “Amy,” I said, holding her tighter to me, “do you trust me?” “Chandler,” she whispered.

I raised a brow. “Yes?” In the single hottest thing a girl had ever done to me, she looked me dead in the eye while she slid a hand slowly down my body. She started at my chest, and ran her hand over my nipples before sliding it slowly down my abs, tracing every ridge. When she got to my waistband, she looked me in the eye; she traced her lips with her tongue, pausing for a moment before slipping her hand into my boxer briefs. She gripped the base of my now hardas-a-rock cock, and her eyes widened. She spoke in a low whisper. “I might be crazy, but I do trust you. And also trust that you’ll fuck me so hard with this that I’ll be walking side to side.” “Fuck.” I groaned, and my eyes rolled in back of my head. I slid my hand from her hip and give her ass a squeeze. She moaned. “I love that.” “Me too.” I smirked back. “Chandler…are we really doing it?” she asked. “There’s no going back after this.” “Shut up and kiss me.” We made out voraciously, our bodies becoming a mishmash of squeezing, moaning, groaning, grinding, pulling, rubbing, and dry humping. Her skirt rode up her legs until it was as high as her belly button. I slipped a hand onto her thong. “You’re wet already.”

“Un-huh.” “Fuck that’s hot.” She pulled in my head and turned it a bit so she could whisper directly in my ear. “I already woke up and pleasured myself thinking what you would feel like.” “This morning?” “Uh-huh.” “Fuck.” She lifted her hips so I could pull her thong off with ease. I moved the tip of my middle finger in circles on her clit. She moaned while I gradually built the pressure. She ground her hips against me my finger, adding a little twist. “Do you like how my finger feels?” “I love it.” I covered her lips with mine for a kiss, then came back up. “You know what I’ve been dying to do?” “What?” I hooked a finger into her, and she moaned. I forced a second finger inside, and she got even louder. Before I could go any further, I pulled them out. “I’ve been dying to see what you taste like.” I licked my own two fingers. “Oh God, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. “You’re sweet, almost like honey.”

Before she could respond, I threw the blanket off and wrapped my arms around her legs then picked her up in a fireman’s carry. She squealed. “Where are we going?” “The couch is fine and all, Squirt, but we should do this on the bed.” I gave her a light smack on her ass. She moaned. “What are we going to do, exactly?” I pushed the door open with my foot and, once we were inside, dropped her down to her feet, catching her so there was no impact. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and inhaled. “Everything.” She put her arm behind me and dragged her fingernail lightly back and forth across my back. “What do you mean, everything?” “We’re going to do everything we should have been doing these past five years.” I lifted her chin toward me with my finger and kissed her slowly and steadily. I took my time, savoring her lips. “Mmm,” she moaned. I tugged at her dress, which was still riding on her hips, and she aided me in slipping it off. She slipped her hand into my sweatpants and gave me a squeeze. “Oh God, Chandler.” I growled back at her, low and throaty, and

nibbled on her ear. “I love the feel of your hand around me like that.” “I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” she whispered as she stroked her hand back and forth on my cock through my sweats. “Fuck, I love hearing you say that.” I reached down and grabbed the cheeks of her ass, grinding her hips into me. “But there is something I want to do first.” “What?” I released her from my grip, jumped onto the bed, and laid down on top of the covers. I took a moment to take in all of her sexiness. Just standing there she was fucking hot. “I want you to ride my fucking face. I want to taste all of you.” Her jaw dropped and her body shuddered, and she tumbled onto the bed. On her knees, she moved toward me. “No one has ever said that to me before,” she murmured. “Shut up and get over here.” An ear-to-ear smile spread across her face. “Earlier, you said you’d always dreamed about this moment.” “Since the day I met you.” “I’ve dreamed about it too.” “You dreamed about sitting on my face?” I strategically stuck my tongue out a little bit and twisted it. “Yes,” she whispered. “That and so much

more.” “Well, I advise you to get the fuck over here right now so we can indulge in this mutual fantasy of ours.” The next thing I knew, she was kneeling over my face. She was a little tentative at first, so I started gradually. First, I licked her folds delicately, swirling my tongue over her clit. Her breathing came in short strokes. Hearing her tiny little inhales made my cock harder with every breath. Then I lapped her up greedily, like a hungry man who had been starved. And I had been. For five years. She lost control, ground harder on my mouth and tongue. “Oh God, Chandler!” She screamed my name and rode me to her first orgasm. Her entire body convulsed, and she leaned back and put her hands on my stomach, needing the extra balance to remove herself from me. She flipped onto her back and stayed there for a moment. I watched her breasts as her chest moved up and down while she caught her breath. “Well, after years of waiting, I finally proved myself right. Yes, you do taste very close to honey nectar.” “Chandler…” She smiled at me lazily. “Yes?” I smirked.

“You didn’t even take your sweatpants off,” she pointed out. “I didn’t.” “Let me help you with those.” She pulled her body up to her knees. I lifted my hips off the bed, and she pulled my sweatpants and my boxer briefs off in one swift motion. She tossed them off the bed and crawled in the space between my legs, on her knees. Making eye contact with me, she wrapped a hand around the base of my cock. I let out a muffled groan as she stroked it a few times. I held my arms behind my head, smiling broadly at the sight of Amy touching my cock. She turned her face downward, as if she was thinking about going down on me, then turned back to me. “Hey Chandler, can I tell you something.” “Of course.” She swallowed. “I’m nervous.” “About what?” “This is our first time. What if you don’t like it?” Amy nervous in a sexual situation. She always talked so upfront about sex, I was surprised to hear her admit this to me. But then it hit me why she would be: all those bad boyfriends and poor sexual experiences. The only thing I wanted for Amy was to enjoy herself. “I already do like it. I fucking love it.” The way I growled the words while looking her in the eye

left no room for doubt. “You do?” she asked, still uncertain. “I loved tasting you,” I said, hoping she knew I meant it, saw it on my face, in my voice. “And now I’m enjoying watching you stroke me. For once, I’m not stroking myself to the thought of you. It’s the real thing.” She moaned. “You’re wet again, aren’t you?” “You act like I stopped being wet during this session at some point.” She mumbled something under her breath that I couldn’t make out. “What did you just say?” She hesitated. “I said, hell, I’ve been wet since I saw you on the plane.” “Fuck me, Squirt.” “Okay.” She smiled, looking devilishly angelic, if that was possible. With Amy, I was learning that anything was possible if I just opened my mind up to it. Realizing something, I laughed heartily all of the sudden. “What?” she asked, startled. “I love how you haven’t taken your hand off my cock during this entire conversation. This could be a like a fun new way for us to chat.” “The ‘Amy Strokes Chandler’ Cockcast,” she joked. She squeezed a little harder and I let out a noise that was half growl, half laugh.

“Amy, get on your back.” “Okay.” She eagerly jumped over to the other side of the bed and starfished. “Is missionary your favorite position?” she asked. I went over to her side of the bed, my cock rock hard. “It is when I want to look at your pretty brown eyes as I fuck you.” She arched her back. I was just about to enter her when she stopped me. “Wait,” she said, suddenly. “Where is your condom?” “Condom?” I repeated, blankly. “Fuck me.” “No,” Amy said with just a hint of sternness. “Fuck me is exactly what you can’t do without a condom.” She mumbled a little something after that. I rubbed my forehead and looked down at my hard dick, wondering how I could have not picked up condoms at any point this week. “What did you just mumble under your breath?” I asked her. She sighed. “I’m on the pill. I never tell guys that, though. Ugh, especially not the first time.” “You’re not comfortable. It’s fine.” I didn’t have to glance down again to feel how hard my cock was. Every time my heart beat, it pulsated. But I wasn’t going to do anything that made her uncomfortable, especially our first time.

She made a come hither motion with her hand, and I lunged forward, propping myself up by my hands on either side of her. She grabbed the back of my neck with her hand, pulled me in close, and whispered in my ear. “The only reason I’m doing this, Chandler, is because I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever dated—anyone I’ve ever met. And if I can’t trust you, well, I can’t trust anyone. And I don’t want to live like that.” “I feel the same way,” I said. “Then fuck me how you want.” She looked me right in the eyes when she spoke. It wasn’t lost on me that this was the very first time she’d put the emphasis on the fuck as opposed to the me. Lying on her back, she reached for my cock to guide me in. I grabbed a knot of her hair. Not to tug —yet—but to anchor me. As I eased inside of her, Amy stared back at me, and I realized that for maybe the first time in my life—fucking was much more than about the sex. It was about sex with her. She was slick, but still, I started slow. She let out several mutters. A purr, a whine, and several short breaths. “You okay?” “Yeah. Goddamn you feel so good Chandler.” I ground my hips slowly, letting her feel every inch of me inside her as I stroked her.

She turned her head and bit into the pillow. I grabbed her chin with my hand and made her face me again. “What are you doing?” “I don’t know.” “When I fuck you, I need you to look at me.” “Okay,” she whispered and turned her head back. As I kissed her again, I sped up the pace of my strokes. She wrapped her legs around my back. I bit her lower lip. My breathing sped up. Hers did too. “Oh, and one more thing before I lose control and go crazy on you,” I managed to say. “The walls of this apartment are soundproof.” At that moment I struck deep inside her and she let out a cry. Her legs came apart, and I peeled her body back. I picked up the pace to a smashing speed, and felt her hips slap against mine in rhythm with every stroke. She wailed, and every time our bodies slammed together it was like another wave had struck, forcing her voice to break for a moment. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come,” she muttered, the only decipherable syllables she’d said in quite some time. “I want you to come. Come hard all over me.” She rocked back and forth faster and I went with her, matching her pace. “Holy fuck,” she yelled. She turned her head again toward the pillow.

Once again, I grabbed her chin and made her face me. “Don’t you dare come without looking me in the eye,” I said. Then a noise filled the air that I can only best describe as singing. Amy sung her way to orgasm. She was a loud one. As she came, she dug her nails into my back. I yelled too, because hearing her voice reverberating through my body made me need to come. She moaned, and her legs wrapped around me again, locking me inside her. She grabbed the back of my head with both hands as she spoke. “Come inside me.” It was as if she had a power over me, because when she spoke the words, I shot strand after strand into her. When it was over, I wrapped my arms around her and waited before I fully pulled out. “What the hell just happened?” I moaned, my heart beating hard. I rolled over on my side, peering down at her. I took her hand in mine—something I couldn’t remember doing before. “I think we just discovered that we’re the best fuck of each others’ lives,” she said as she stared up at me. “Yeah.” I looked at her, looked at the ceiling, and then looked back at her with a wry smile. “You

want to do that again?”

TWENTY AMY

C

handler snoozed and I looked up at the mirror he had on the ceiling, a broad and natural grin on my face. My arms were outstretched over my head, part of my leg was covered with the sheet. Chandler, on the other hand, was completely naked. I watched him sleeping with fascination. Even asleep, a cocky grin seemed plastered on his face. His arms were long, lean and muscular, and every one of his eight abdominal muscles were visible with each breath he took. I stared at him in the mirror, then turned my head to look at him, to remind myself that yes, this was real life. Chandler and I spent the better part of the morning and the afternoon doing what a couple of friends do when they discover they have amazing bedroom chemistry. When the biography of Amy

Kershaw was written, this day was going down as the number one best sex ever day. Nothing else could compare. Years of thinking I’d never see Chandler again and now here we were in the same house. After we left each other five years ago, I had gone through the worst depression ever. It probably didn’t help that I never talked about what was really bothering me with my therapist but I just couldn’t. I still remembered his last day, at how we’d parted; so many questions unanswered and left hanging for five years. So many ‘what ifs’ that had plagued me. So much of that time after I went back home was a huge fog to me. It took me over two years to get out of my last depressive state. Once I got my career on track, that had helped enormously to get me focused on something other then my depression and the cause of it: Chandler. The one that got away, that I’d pushed away, and for what? My one promise to myself was that I had to get over him for good and to do that, I had to pretend he didn’t exist. I didn’t look him up on Facebook or online, and had never tried to find him or find out about his life. I didn’t even stay in contact with Becca, or Chandler’s friend, Tony, staying away from social media entirely. Now, being in his bed, and knowing he hadn’t changed, especially after meeting Nina then

Bethany on our first day, I already knew what I’d find online. And it’d crush me to be reminded that I was just a girl he finally got to nail. He didn’t get bonus points for waiting five years to do me. After what David had done, I was suddenly back on the road to another downward funk when Chandler, once again, saved me from slipping under. And now, we were both very much reeled back in. Last night would be something I’d never forget. And the fallout from us hooking up wasn’t there. Oh, the possibility of getting hurt was still there but right now, I wasn’t going to think about the end, just enjoy the now for once. The future could wait. I looked over at him again. The man fucked with reckless abandon. His body was a good deal bigger and obviously stronger than mine, and he came after me in a way that was feral. Fucked up as it was, I could see why women kept coming back to him with their mouths open, that crazy look like they were thirsty in the desert and Chandler was the only one who had access to water. Now that we’d had sex, this was my standard. An average of four orgasms per hour. Average. As crazy as my logic, having the pact made

even more sense now. If I ever had to date a regular guy after this experience, I was fucked, and so was the guy I was dating. My stomach lurched even considering dating someone else. And worse, what if I did end up as another one of Chandler’s hookups? What if he did this with girls all the time? Sure, he’d made a promise to not hookup while I was with him but he could have said it just to get me on my back. And it’d worked. Like a charm. If we do this, I’m yours, and you’re mine, and that’s the way it’s going to stay until one of us says any different. I recalled those words like they’d been tattooed on my skin. Did he mean them? If so, for how long? Not forever, that much I knew. After this week, would he be the one to say it’s over? Nice seeing ya, have a great life? However, I had to accept that it was a possibility, as much as I hated it. I don’t care what label we put on it. Amigos. Novias. Amigovias. Whatever. He’d said something like that once before, during our study abroad program. Chandler was, if anything, consistent in his views. But—what were we now? I needed clarification on that. The silly pact that had kept us apart was over and done with. Chandler wasn’t going to change his ways for anybody. I could have him, but only in the form that he chose. At some point, that

wouldn’t be enough for me, which is why I’d made that damn pact in the beginning and had tried so hard to maintain it—because I’d known from the beginning that Chandler was special. Being here with him, finally having him, was a euphoric feeling. And possibly bittersweet. The man was my personal medicine, my antidote to all the pains of life. Since we’d left the plane, I hadn’t taken any of my meds. It hadn’t even crossed my mind because I felt so good when I was around him. I closed my eyes and I couldn’t help the wandering my mind did as I daydreamed of moving to Barcelona to live with Chandler. I could stay here permanently, maybe teach some English classes. I could learn to salsa dance like a pro. It would be the perfect life. I could raise a kid who knew Spanish. I stared at my reflection then Chandler’s. I wondered what our kids would look like. Would they be short and more pale-skinned like me? No, certainly Chandler’s dominant genes would take over, and our kid would be tall and have that olive skin of Chandler’s. And his blue and green eyes. They had to have his eyes. I closed my eyes, knowing I was getting completely ahead of myself. I still remembered his blunt way of saying he never wanted kids. Amongst other things. And besides, what would my mom think? God,

she’d be pissed. “We didn’t pay for your college so you could move to Barcelona and follow some guy you hardly know,” she’d probably say. She’d curse me for abandoning the company that Andrea and I were about to start. Whatever Mom, being with Chandler is the only time in the last five years I’ve been happy without taking my depression medication. That realization jarred me out of my daydream. When I opened my eyes, Chandler was hovering over me, not quite touching me. “Hey Squirt. What are you thinking about? You look worried.” My heart began to beat so hard. I swear I could feel my left boob vibrating. Oh nothing Chandler, just imagining our life together after one morning of love making, no big deal. You are too, right? But I knew he wasn’t thinking that at all. He was still the same old Chandler. Luckily, another question had been on my mind, one that didn’t have to do with having Chandler’s babies. “I was just wondering, and don’t take this the wrong way but, did you try out for the NBA?” He looked away and I could sense his mood shift, his face tightened a little. His expression betrayed a small hint of vulnerability, and now he’d piqued my curiosity. He tried to speak a couple of times before he

finally spoke. “That, babe, is a story for another time.” He gave me a kiss on the lips, as though to silence more questions. “You want to know what I was thinking about?” I smiled. “Of course.” “I was thinking about what your stupid exboyfriend Scott said to you that one time.” I furrowed my brow, suddenly confused. “Why the hell were you thinking about him?” Chandler dragged the finger of his other hand over my breasts and stomach as he spoke. I wondered if he realized what he was doing, or it was done unconsciously. Either way, it was a nice effect. “You remember the one time you were telling me how the guy needed porn to get hard, and I always thought that was the saddest thing I’d ever heard? A man needing a fucking technological aid to get it up?” I squinted and thought hard before I nodded. It still amazed me how much he’d remembered about me, the small things and the big ones too. “Honestly, it’s funny you mention this because I do remember that conversation,” I said, “but I could not care less what he thinks of me anymore. The guy was a total asshole.” His eyes started on my face, and I swear I could feel his pupils run across my face, neck, and body. He shrugged. “Well, I don’t know why I thought of this but—actually, fuck it, I do know. I don’t want

you to ever think it was you—because it wasn’t. It was him that was the problem.” I’d figured that out a long time ago but hearing him say that meant a lot. And if Chandler was trying to sweet talk me, it was working. I could also see his cock moving, getting harder. “I see you don’t need any porn to get hard.” I glanced up at Chandler’s face, then down between his legs. “Although you do have the cock of a porn star.” “I don’t watch porn so I wouldn’t know.” “You don’t watch porn at all?” I almost laughed because I’d never heard that. “That’s strange.” “Why would I when I have the real thing in front of me right now?” He grinned while making his moves on me. “Plus, you could totally do porn. You and me? Now that’s a porn I could watch. Real chemistry.” A surge of courage came over me, and I whispered in Chandler’s ear. “I’m going to do something I’ve been dreaming about for a while. And you just reminded me.” Chandler arched an eyebrow at me. “Oh yeah?” I whispered again. “Yeah. I’ll give you a hint. It involves my mouth and your cock.” He started to say something, but nothing came out. Any time I could leave Chandler speechless was a win for me. Instead, he brought my face to his, covering my mouth. I felt his now stubbled face against my cheek, and it heated me up.

“Lie on your back,” I commanded him, and he reluctantly obliged while I reached for a hair tie on the nightstand. “Oh fuck, she’s getting the hair tie. She means business.” “Damn right I do. I mean, that cock isn’t going to suck itself,” I said. His reaction was priceless. Eyes widening and jaw dropping. Once again, rendered speechless. My hair in a ponytail behind my head, I slinked over to his body and hovered over him, my face inches from his. “Honestly, I don’t even know where some of the stuff I think of comes from,” I admitted, laughing lightly. “Well, wherever it comes from, it’s fucking beautiful.” “You know, you’re the first person to ever tell me my dirty talk is beautiful.” “Well, it’s not as beautiful as your gorgeous fucking face, but it’s still great.” I could feel Chandler’s erection throbbing against my leg. Holding my hands up with my arms, I dragged my nipples lightly across his chest, moving my body back and forth. “Did you mean my gorgeous fucking face, or my gorgeous sucking face?” “Both,” he said without hesitation. “Although I think I’ll need to see your sucking face more to be able to compare.”

“Well, you are about to see my sucking face.” I smiled then kissed him on the lips once more. I left a trail of kisses down the middle of his body, going from his neck, between his chest muscles, his abs, and below his belly button. I kneeled between his legs and took him in my hand. He moaned as I kissed the tip of his cock. He wiggled his hips as I ran my tongue up and down his length. I looked up at him and saw a pleased smile. “How am I doing?” I asked. “Hotter than any porno I could ever imagine.” His words spurred me, and I opened my mouth up and took him in, swirling my tongue on his tip. His breath became short and throaty. I came up for a breath of air before I dove back onto his cock, deeper this time. He moaned louder, and I bobbed my head up and down on his hardness. I slowed, his moaning slowed. I sped up, he got louder. Tiny as I was, I took a sort of pleasure in the way I could control him. One thing I couldn’t control, though, was how wet I was getting by the second. I lifted my head up to take a breath of air. He rolled his eyes down at me, but before he could say anything I wrapped my lips back around him. “Fuck, Amy.” I loved the way he growled my name. I took him deeper, went faster, and then I felt his huge hand on my head, half massaging and half guiding

me. I hummed somewhat involuntarily and now I felt his hips starting to rock as he fucked my face. Wet and greedy, I wanted so badly to reach down and touch myself. As if reading my mind, Chandler pulled my head up by the hair. I was panting as he spoke. “I want to taste you as you suck my cock.” “Fuck yes.” He spun my body around so that my pussy was on his face. I held his cock at the base and began to take him back in my mouth. I felt his tongue or finger flicking my clit and let out a noise that sounded halfway between a moan and a slurp. Suddenly, I lost all power to control his moans, and he was controlling me with his tongue. I lifted my head up. “Oh God, oh God, Chandler,” I moaned. He said nothing in response, his tongue concentrated between my legs. But I felt his hands running up and down on my back, massaging my shoulders and reaching my neck. I wanted to concentrate on his cock, but I couldn’t. “Chandler please, just fuck me already.” After another minute I think my words must have registered, and he lifted my ass up and set me on his stomach. “Lay on your side, baby,” he whispered. I followed his command, and then I was on my left side with him behind me, and his huge arm

wrapped around my waist. I lifted my leg up, reached down for his cock, and guided him into me. I glanced back and we made eye contact, him staring intently into my eyes. He grabbed hold of my face and kissed me deeply. His tip pushed into me and I let out a purr. Wet as I was, it took a minute to get adjusted to him. He dropped a hand between my legs on my clit as he started slow. “This just feels so fucking right,” he growled. He kissed—no, more like sucked on—my neck. “Yes it does,” I managed to answer as he entered deeper into me. He gradually sped up until he was bucking hard against me. One hand was wrapped gently around my throat, pulling my head back so it was touching his. I screamed as I came hard, his finger on my clit while he entered me all the way was too much. “Mmm, I love the way you sound when you come.” “Shut up and fuck me harder,” I breathed. “So that’s the way you want it?” “Yes.” Without pulling out, he rolled my body over so I was flat on my stomach. I felt his hands grip the sides of my body as he slammed his hips into my ass. With every stroke I screamed louder. He pressed his chest onto my back and kissed my neck, sending shivers up and down my body

again. I felt the orgasm building, and my pussy tightened around his cock. His breath caught, and I knew he was close. I couldn’t believe this was still the first day that we had let ourselves have sex. This was what I had been missing in my life. This was why I’d been depressed on and off the last five years. It might have been the first day, but this orgasm was five years in the making. Not like I hadn’t already orgasmed to the thought of him. I screamed louder than I ever imagined I would or even could during sex, my ass grinding into Chandler’s hips as I rode him, or he rode me, or whatever the fuck we were doing. He dug his lips and teeth into my neck and I came. The full weight of Chandler’s body was on top of me now, and I had never felt so liberated, so free while physically closed in. “I want to see you come on my tits, Chandler.” Like we had rehearsed this a thousand times, he pulled out and I flipped over. I sat up slightly and grabbed his cock to help him shoot ropes of come onto my boobs, stomach, and well, some got on the covers. “How’s that for a porno finish?” I giggled. “Who cares?” He grinned, still holding his cock. “That was fucking awesome.”

TWENTY-ONE CHANDLER

W

e lay in bed after it was all over, just looking up at the ceiling mirror, staring at our sweaty bodies. Amy’s chest heaved next to me while she took deep breaths, her hard nipples pointing straight upward. The feeling was like the first kiss at the bar, except this time, it permeated throughout my entire body. I had to ask, “Amy…you feel that too?” “You mean the fact that you just gave me more Os in one session than David gave me in all six months combined?” she asked, still sounding drowsy. I chuckled. “Maybe it’s that. To be honest, I’ve never had this exact feeling before. It’s kind of like that kiss last night. But times one hundred.” She rolled over on her side and draped a leg over my knee and her arm on my chest, tracing her

hand in figure eights around my chest. “I know. This is crazy. What do we do now?” I wrapped my arm around her body and brought her in close to me. “We enjoy this fucking day.” She leaned her chest on mine. “Do you mean, ‘we enjoy this fucking day,’ or ‘we enjoy this fucking day’?” A smile spread across my face from ear to ear. “Both. But mostly the second.” I fisted up a lock of her hair and brought to my nose, and inhaled. “You enjoy sniffing my hair.” I nodded, doing it again. “I love it.” “Such a perv,” she said, but she was smiling. “Guilty as charged.” “I have an idea for the rest of the week.” “Oh?” “We should trade planning days for the other person. Like, fantasies. I mean, my plane leaves next Saturday for Chicago. That’s not even ten full days. Until then, though, I want to keep doing this. Whatever this is.” I breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time felt stressed out already thinking about what would happen when she left. I had been wondering about her for five years. Although I personally wasn’t on any social media accounts, my old buddy Le Ral had given me his log in so I could personally stalk Amy and see what she was up to. He was friends with her through Becca. Every time I thought about

giving her a call or shooting her a message to see what she was up to, it seemed like she posted a new picture with some guy she was dating. And I wasn’t a homewrecker. Nor was I the guy who desperately reached out to some girl he knew years ago and had a crush on. I’d always been satisfied knowing that she was happy—even if it wasn’t with me. Now, the girl of my dreams was telling me she wanted to be my fuck buddy for the rest of the week. As much as I wanted more, how crazy would she think I was if I told her my long-term thoughts less than twenty-four hours before we had fucked the first time? So I did what any reasonable man would do in this situation: I made sure to play it cool. “I can get on that idea. Until then, amigovios?” She grinned. “Yes. Let’s be amigovios.” Her eyes darted from side to side, and she parted her lips but didn’t say anything. “I know that face.” “What?” she denied. “Oh please. You’re thinking of something dirty.” She chuckled. “What are you thinking about?” I pressed. “Okay, you can’t laugh at my fantasy.” “Ha! I knew you were thinking dirty! I won’t make fun of you. And, actually—let’s make that a rule. No laughing at each others’ fantasies.”

“Okay, fine. I want to do it in a church.” I stared at her, a little shocked. “You want to do it…in a church. Like on the alter?” She shrugged and laughed. “I haven’t thought too much past the church part.” I ran my hand through her hair. “Have you ever told anyone else about this?” “No.” Mentally I began to flash through all of the churches that I knew of in the area, and I looked at the clock. “Oh shit.” “What?” “I have an hour until I have to leave for pregame practice. And I’m damn ravenous. We also need to let the dog out.” Jess must have heard, because she grumbled on the other side of the door. “Can I come to your game today?” “Course you can, Squirt.” I grabbed her and kissed the shit out of her. She had asked the question so innocently, like I wasn’t going to want her there or something. “I’ll have a ticket waiting for you when you arrive at the gate of the stadium today.” *** The Friday afternoon crowd was pretty big for this game. I dribbled down the court, Blagovich guarding me close. He was yelling some stuff in Serbian that I didn’t understand. I passed to Le Ral

who was in the post, and they doubled him. I ran to the corner and yelled for the ball. Le Ral faked like he was going up to the hoop and then found me with a no look pass. Blagovich closed out but it was too late. I swished another three pointer in as the buzzer sounded to end the first half. We were up by twenty, a surprisingly healthy lead over one of the best teams in the league. Le Ral trotted over and gave me a butt pat and a high five. I loved the combination of his goofy voice and French accent. “Hell yeah Spiros! What the fuck, man? The hell are you on today?” “What?” “Oh please,” he said, and chuckled as we walked to the locker room for our break. “Don’t be humble. You’ve hit like six threes this half. Is there a scout in the stands or something?” “No clue.” “You’re playing inspired tonight, that’s for sure, man.” We walked under the walkway and I saw Amy. She stared at me, a giant smile plastered across her face. She blew me a kiss. “Ahhhh!” Le Ral yelled, then doing a double take. “Is that…Amy?” “Yep. We met on the plane here.” Le Ral looked over at me. “Spiros, you finally

made her your girlfriend! I knew it’d happen someday!” I chuckled. “Not my girlfriend.” “No?” he asked, waving back at Amy but shooting me a confused look. “Just my amigovia.” I winked at him. I loved fucking with Le Ral. We passed the underpass of the balcony and Amy disappeared from sight. “Amigovia?” he asked. “Like…a side piece, eh?” I clammed up. Le Ral was just fucking around, but something didn’t sit right with him calling Amy my ‘side piece’. But I also didn’t know how to explain my relationship with Amy . “Nah,” I finally answered. “Not like that, exactly.” “So, she is your girlfriend?” “No. Um, not exactly.” We reached the inside of the locker room, grabbed a couple of towels, and took a seat on the bench inside. Le Ral knew me well, maybe better than anyone. He’d seen me run through entire groups of girls. He knew what I was capable of. And I could tell he was having a hard time processing this information. He put a hand on my shoulder and nodded. “You don’t have to explain man. I get it. She’s not one of the other ones. Don’t worry man, I am

French. We get romance.” I chuckled. “Thanks bud.” “She’s your muse.” “My what?” I asked, chugging down water while waiting for the coaching staff to give their half time pep talk. “Muse. That’s what all the great French artists had. One girl who inspired them.” I looked at Le Ral, wondering if all Frenchmen thought like he did. “I’m not an artist, though.” “Well, you sure looked like one today on the court. You just use a basketball, not a paintbrush.” “Fuck, Le Ral. Where’d you come up with all this poetry?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “I don’t know man, it’s just a bunch of bullshit I’m making up on the spot.” “I don’t know how to describe her man. She’s just…Amy. She’s Squirt.” “Did you just say ‘Squirt’?” he asked, his face scrunching up. I grinned. “Long story.” “Ohhh…” After a brief talk by our coaches, mostly to keep the score nice and cushy, half time was over and we all went back out on the court to a thunderous crowd. I felt like I was playing in slow motion the rest of the game. My senses, my reaction time, everything was enhanced.

I put up fifty-two points all in all in the game, and we won by the largest margin this year. Afterwards, everyone was asking me where the hell this outburst had come from. I wasn't sure, but I sure felt different that night. It was like all of the previous games I'd been playing in black and white, and now I was playing in color. Amy was waiting for me at the players’ entrance, which was an open-air tunnel that led to a private parking area for the team, coaching staff and people who worked at the stadium. She was leaning against one of the side walls, in jeans, a vneck t-shirt, and a jacket. She had a baseball cap on too. "Hey there," I said, grabbing her around the middle. "Hi. Good game tonight." I turned her cap around slowly. "You messed up my ponytail," she complained. I leaned down and kissed her against the brick wall of the stadium. "Didn't want any obstructions to stop me from doing that." She wrapped her arms around me, and I even felt one hand slide down to my leg. I released her. "Dirty girl," I quipped, feeling her hand and where it was on my ass. "I can't help it. You make me this way." "I think I've found my mission on this earth."

"Speaking of missions, I'm hungry as hell." She raised an eyebrow. "Me too. But I need to eat something else first. How about we go home and have a quickie, then I'll take you out to a proper dinner?" She lowered her other hand on my body. "How about a quick bite and a marathon?" “Let’s just head out and see where the night takes us.”

TWENTY-TWO AMY

S

aturday morning, I went out to the corner café to grab Chandler and me two dark roast coffees. He was extra tired after his game and, well, our marathon session that had lasted into the wee hours of the morning. I had woken up after just a few hours sleep, instantly awake. So alive. Since I’d arrived, I hadn’t taken a single pill for my depression, and the cloud of fog that usually followed me around had lifted. As I ordered two coffees in Spanish, I randomly thought about my dad. He used to tell me that most of life could be boiled down to a handful of moments. For him, there was the time he saw my mother for the first time. His wedding day. When he got fired from his first job only to start his own company and mine and Sam’s births. With Chandler, I wasn’t sure where our

moments were leading us. There were three in particular that stuck out to me, though. The first, when we were chatting at some bar on Becca’s birthday five years ago, and I’d felt like I knew him better than any of the girls he’d slept with. Our second defining moment, unfortunately, was when I saw him sucking face with some girl not two minutes after we’d made our connection that I thought was so deep. I hadn’t forgiven him for that. I hadn’t even asked him about it. That I’d refused to talk about when he’d asked me what had happened. As if the first two moments hadn’t confused me enough, the third moment was after the sex, which was one thing. It didn’t confuse me too much that Chandler and I were great at it. Our sexual chemistry was insane. But I questioned what the cuddling meant. Was this just regular after-sex cuddling? Did he do this with all his girls? Or did he usually kick them out after he was done? I realized I had no idea but the cavalier way he’d been with Norma and Bethany had been rather cold. The barista handed me two coffees, mine with cream and vanilla, and Chandler’s black. How weird was I, that it wasn’t necessarily his sex with other girls that made me jealous, but his cuddling? I walked back to his place down Muntaner Calle, enjoying the relative quiet of the warmish

winter morning. If I were in Chicago I’d be freezing right now. In Spain, however, I could walk around with no jacket on a warm winter day. As I carried the hot coffee in my hands, I thought about other hot things. Like our sexual chemistry, which was off the charts. Forget charts. There was no chart. I already felt more at ease with him sexually than I had with any previous partner. For once, I felt that I was enough. Just me. Amy fucking Kershaw and her jaded outlook on life, and Chandler didn’t mind it. He appreciated it. I took the stairs up to his place and Jessica greeted me at the door, wagging her tail. Chandler called to me from his room as I set the coffees on the kitchen counter. “Squirt. Where’d you go?” “Just went to grab us coffees,” I shouted. “Oh, thanks,” he shouted back. “But come to bed for a few minutes.” A huge grin spread across my face. I took off my jacket, shoes and clothes, and climbed under the warm covers with him. Our cuddling chemistry was also damn good. His body was much bigger than mine, and I felt so protected when he wrapped me up. “Chandler?” I said his name, and then promptly forgot the question that I was thinking about asking him. I don’t know what answer I wanted. “Yes?” he said, stroking my hair.

A ton of questions circulated in my brain, and I couldn’t think what I wanted to ask him. Why had it taken us this long to do something that was so amazing? But I was able to settle on a curiosity that had been gnawing at me. Thinking about my own dad got me thinking about Chandler’s. “Do you ever wonder where your father is?” I turned my head and watched Chandler’s Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, his eyes locked on me. “You’re asking me about that again? What made you think of that?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always wondered that about you. Ever since our chat in the bar that one night.” His eyes glowed. “Do you remember that night as vividly as I do?” “Yes,” I whispered. “You went so cold on me after that night. Why?” My heartbeat raced. I had to tell him the truth but went for the obvious one. “Because not two minutes after I thought we were making an actual connection, you were making out with Señorita Bimbo at the bar.” The statement came out more accusatory than I had intended. He propped his head up on his elbow and shook his head. “That didn’t mean a thing. She’s the one that kissed me. What was I supposed to do?”

I raised both of my eyebrows at him. “Really?” I scoffed. “That’s your excuse? So any woman that wants to kiss you, you’re just going to let it happen?” He signed. “Okay, fine. But she did catch me off guard. Did you also see me wipe her lipstick off my face in disgust?” “I figured you were toying with me,” I said. “And just trying to hide your relationship with her from me. I thought I was being played and made a fool of”—I stopped, glaring at him—“You’re getting me off topic. You’re deflecting about your father.” Chandler breathed deeply. “I hate talking about this,” he said, deadpan. “But if it’s with anyone, it would be you.” I turned my body so we were facing each other under the covers. Chandler put his hand on the flesh of my hip. “I’m not trying to be nosy but…I’m so close to my dad and I can’t imagine him not being in my life.” I paused, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or open old wounds but part of understanding Chandler, his ways, and whatever future we had, was rooted in his past. “It’s just… You never talk about him in any personal way.” His face was wrought with tension. “Honestly, I don’t think much about him on purpose. I just push the thought of him out of my mind, most days. Way

I see it, I’ve lived twenty-six years without him so what’s another twenty-six?” I put a hand on his shoulder, partly in comfort and encouragement. He looked as though he was processing something. I wanted to know what but I didn’t want this to dampen our moment together. “You now what? It’s doesn’t matter,” I said quickly, backpedaling. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” “No,” he went on, squeezing my hip when I was about to turn around and go back to cuddling, which was safer then this topic I’d brought up. It wasn’t my business. If he knew about my depression and asked about it, I’d resist talking about it, too. “It’s fine. You’re right. I sometimes do wonder what he’s up to. Is he even alive? Does he have a job? Is he a deadbeat? Did I get my athletic abilities from him? Why couldn’t he stay with my mom? These questions pop up sometimes, but I don’t like them. I push them under the rug.” There were so many things I wanted to tell Chandler, and ask him, but I was beginning to feel like a bit of a prodding psychologist. I did find it a little ironic that, as a psychology major and pretty knowledgeable, none of what he learned seemed to register about himself. Or, he did know, and, as he said, pushed it under the proverbial rug. I kissed him on the lips, and then on the chest, taking a moment to suck on his rose tattoo because why not?

“Why do you have this tattoo?” I asked, changing the topic. “You and your questions today,” he said, but he didn’t sound mad. “It’s a rose. You’re not a rosy kind of guy. Is it a ‘beautiful things have thorns’ kind of rationale?” I asked, tracing the outlines of each petal. “I wish I could say there was a rationale. When I broke my arm one year in high school, I was bored and this girl I liked said a rose would look good on my chest. So I did.” “As smart as you are,” I posed, propping my chin on his chest, “you’re not really a thinker, are you?” He laughed. “Sometimes yes, sometimes not.” As close as I felt to him, as good as the chemistry was, I still hadn’t figured this man out. *** We puttered around the house for much of that day. I took a quick shower and dressed back in my skirt and top while Chandler walked the dog then he made us grilled cheeses with tomato soup for lunch. He mentioned off-hand while we were eating that he’d never been to the Joan Miró museum, which I found preposterous since he had been living here for four years after college, and Miró was the most famous artist to come out of Barcelona in the twentieth century. We decided to go to the museum, since we’d been spending a

borderline unhealthy amount of time in bars during this trip so far, and our livers needed a break. I tidied up the kitchen while Chandler finished cleaning up. Afterwards, I found him in the bathroom, just in jeans while he finished shaving. He’d paused and he was holding something in his hands, but I couldn’t see what. I surprised him from behind, running my hand over the smooth skin of his muscled bareback. He jumped a little but then tensed up. “Whatcha doing?” I asked, leaning the side of my head into the warmth of his body. He didn’t say anything. When I shifted around to the other side of him, I found him with a rather grim expression on his face. “I should be the one asking you that. What the fuck is this, Amy?” I let go of him and moved off to the side. A ball of anxiety started in my throat and worked its way down to my stomach. He’d found my Ambien, Xanax, and Prozac bottles, which I’d carelessly left out when I rearranged my luggage earlier that afternoon. “What is what?” I croaked, trying to make it seem like the pills were no big deal. He turned towards me. He held all three pill bottles in one big hand. “You didn’t mention to me that you were on antidepressants. It’s like a goddamn depression cocktail here.” He shook the bottles, then slammed them on the counter for

emphasis. “Why didn’t you tell me?” For as free as I felt sexually with Chandler, seeing him holding those pills in his hand made me feel suddenly shameful. Our conversation on depression came back to me in vivid 3D color. “I haven’t even been taking them,” I blurted out. It was the truth but not the answer to the question he’d asked. “Really?” His eyes seared through me. “Then why are they out?” I narrowed my eyes at him. Were we fighting? “I brought them along for the trip. Just in case. But I haven’t needed them while I’ve been here. Why are you so mad?” “So you’ve been taking them…for who knows how long…and you expect me to believe that you would just stop taking them all of the sudden?” He turned, hands on his hips, and stared at me. “Your mood was always extra fucked up when we were in Spain last time. Is that why? Because you have depression?” Your mood was always extra fucked up… I took a step back, like he’d screamed them at me. I knew at some point this was bound to happen, just not so early on. In other ways, I was glad that it wasn’t some dirty little secret anymore but I couldn’t get a read on Chandler and his anger. “Are you mad at me because I’m taking them, or because I’m not taking them? I don’t understand.”

“If you need them,” he said, gritting his teeth, “you should take them. But hey, I’m not a psychiatrist.” “Yeah, well, truth be told, I haven’t needed to take them,” I repeated, still flustered. “I’ve felt great these last few days.” I shrugged. “Not sure why, exactly.” Chandler squinted back at me, jaw tight and still angry. “Right now, I’m not sure what to think, Amy. I’ve always felt like you’ve always been keeping something from me…and I find out about this. If you’ve kept your depression from me, what else is there?” He shook his head. “I hate surprises like this.” “I just don’t like talking about my depression,” I snapped, snatching the pills from out of his hand. I went to where my luggage was in Chandler’s room and put them back in my bag. He didn’t come after me and I heard the bathroom door shut a second later. Instead of waiting for Chandler, I grabbed my purse and left his place, needing some air. I didn’t look back. And I sure as hell didn’t expect him to follow. *** The Joan Miró museum was a healthy thirtyminute walk from Chandler’s apartment. Inside, I meandered through the halls, looking at the different pieces from all of the epochs of Miró’s

life. There were colorful, surreal paintings—which I could really relate to at the moment—to sculptures and ceramics. It felt oddly calming to look at the art of a man who, judging by his art, may have been insane. Or a genius. Probably a little of both. His pieces ranged from details, realistic landscapes to pictures that seemed stick-figureish, like he drew them in thirty minutes. Plenty of sculptures were mixed in with his canvas art and it put me in a contemplative rather anxious or even sad state. Of course I’d still be on a Chandler high even when we were fighting. How the hell was I going to make it after I left? My phone buzzed in my purse. Chandler and I had exchanged numbers at baggage claim but it was the first time he’d called it. However, I’d put it on silent after the seventh time. I fell into a trance in front of one particular piece, Self Portrait. It looked more like a cartoon than a classic piece of art. The piece was a big, round outline of a head with two eyes, and a few hairs on top. It seemed likely to me that Miró had intentionally drawn this one badly. One of the eyes had a red ring around it. Only when you examined the painting closely did you find the vast detail in the background, intricate patterns that were barely visible unless you dared to stare long and close. It was at the Self Portrait piece that I noticed

Chandler in my peripheral. Trailing me but giving each other much needed space but he was also looking at the art intently. A minute later, Chandler sidled up next to me, crossing his arms and cocking his head at the work. “What do you think it means?” I asked him, testing the waters. He shrugged. “No idea. Looks like he made a cool pattern in the background and needed something to draw on top of it to give a theme, so he put a stick figure thing. What about you?” “This is one of his earlier pieces, so maybe he still couldn’t see how amazing he was—that’s the intricate designs behind him on the canvass. Instead, he sees himself as this scarred, cardboard cutout. An ugly stick figure.” Chandler nodded and put a hand on his chin. “You’re good. I don’t understand how you got all that, though.” He seemed to be looking hard at the painting, straining to see what I saw. “Hey,” I said softly, and put a hand on his back. “What happened back there, in the bathroom? You flipped out on me. I’m honestly at a loss as to why. It was a little scary, to be honest.” His body went rigid. I could feel the muscles in his back tightening; saw his fists clench. “That was a little of an over-the-top reaction. I just don’t like it when you keep things from me like that. Like you

didn’t trust me…” I took my hand away from his back and crossed my arms to match him. “Really? That’s it? It’s not like when I stepped into your apartment this week we made some pact to tell each other all of our darkest secrets. Not that I wouldn’t have told you, at some point…I just—” “Let’s go into the courtyard,” he said, cutting me off. “I need some fresh air. And it’s gorgeous outside today.” I was a little peeved that he’d cut me off, but there seemed to be something on his mind, so I complied. And, I had to admit, I had some explaining to do as well. Chandler brought me a coconut smoothie and himself a coffee while we awkwardly sat on a bench, and surrounded by chatter in all sort of languages. Spanish, Catalan, French—the white noise was rather comforting. “You’re right,” he said, sipping his coffee from a rather comically small cup. “I did flip out a little. Sorry about that. But, I was taken by surprise.” “It’s okay,” I said, putting my arm on his forearm. Time for some real truth, I decided, because Chandler had given me some and I did trust him. Even after all this time and having just re-connected, I knew I could be real with him. “I could have handled that better myself.” He looked over at me, a little surprised. “I’ve just gotten

burned, y’know? People knowing. Trusting too soon. Most react…not well.” I paused, shrugging. “It affected a couple of my past relationships, and it’s always been this thing that I don’t want to rule my life but I got afraid, that you’d reject me because of it, so…I don’t know.” I hesitated then forced myself to say the rest. “Do you remember our conversation, that one morning, about your major…” He swore under his breath. “I do remember— but that’s not fair to put my response on me like that, especially when you were being sneaky instead of honest with me,” he went on but sighing. “I would never judge you for having depression anymore then you’ve ever judged me for being, well, me. And accepting me for me, regardless.” He paused. “But it does explain a lot.” I met his gaze. “You mean my extra fucked up mood?” I asked, glumly. He winced. “I’m sorry, that was a dick move on my part and very poor choice of words. I was reacting because I…didn’t like that you kept that from me. Look, anytime I get caught off guard like that, it’s always been bad news. Like finding out my dad was a loser, or my mom marrying Bob when I knew she might not love him.” “Okay, fair enough…” I mumbled but I looked down, fiddling nervously with my smoothie cup. “If we were to have that same conversation, but I told

you I have depression—would your response be different?” I raised my eyes to meet his. He considered me for a long time, so long that I felt a heaviness in the pit of my stomach. He reached out and laced his fingers through mine, like he’d done when we were on the plane. I stared down at our hands, warmed by the gesture but also weary. “Yes and no,” he said and I tensed. He squeezed my hand, hard enough for me to look at him. “Not wanting to ‘deal’ with mental disorders on a professional level is far different from you, someone I care about, having depression, Amy. Huge difference.” I blinked at him, at the maturity in his words. I was wrong to say he wasn’t much of a thinker. I just didn’t know all the sides to him. “I…you’re right,” I admitted. “Mostly, I was just worried about your wellbeing,” he said, still serious. “From what I remember, it’s best that you take your meds regardless of whether or not you feel like it or not.” A ray of sunlight sneaked through a tree and landed across his face. There was nothing but warmth in his eyes but his expression was somber. “When I realized you left my apartment, without a word, that really shook me. But it also made me realize that you were running away—like you did the last month before I left. I don’t know where this is

going but I like it, and I want you in my life. I know there are a lot of things we have to figure out to make that work but if you keep running away, or me, too, then we’ll end up the way we did five years ago.” He paused, searching my face. “Do you want that?” I don’t know what came over me in that moment. Whatever this was, this friends with benefits, this ambiguous amigovios or friends with benefits situation was, Chandler did care about me. “Hey,” I whispered softly. He turned and looked at me curiously. My heart beat like a drum. I’d never been a girl to make a move like this, but with him, I knew it’d be all right. I grabbed hold of Chandler’s neck, leaned across the table, and planted my lips on his. He didn’t see it coming at first, but soon he was reciprocating, driving his lips into mine and palming the back of my head. Finally, he released me and nodded. “Wow,” was all he said. “Yes, wow,” I echoed. Chandler flipping out on me was actually a fledgling attempt to show me how much he cared about me. He accepted me, depression and all. I wish I had told him back then, but sometimes, growing up and finding the right moment was what mattered. I was beyond ecstatic that we’d finally had this conversation, the one that had haunted me for years and wounded me too but Chandler

understood. Yes, there were things to figure out but the fact that he’d made the first move meant a lot. It was a huge step for him and I had to meet him halfway. “You honestly haven’t been taking your pills since you got here. Not one?” he asked, raising a brow. I leaned in and nodded. “Not one.” “Okay,” he said, leaning back, but still had this worried look. “But you should still keep taking them if you’re supposed to, Amy. It’s not safe to stop cold-turkey.” Normally, I’d be irritated; but from Chandler, it was different somehow. I nodded. “You’re right but…” How could I tell him without sounding ridiculous that he, Chandler, had the same effect on my depression that my meds did? Like he had back in college? It’d been three days I’d been completely drug free, and no side effects like I got when I missed even a day. “Look, my doctor and I are trying different things so that I can safely quit all my meds. Eventually. And I’m back to taking low dosages of all three. Right now, I only take Prozac every day and use Xanax and Ambien when I need it. So not taking them is less of a shock…” He considered my words then nodded, a little less worried. He leaned forward and gave me a kiss on my forehead then peered down at my face. “So you’re sure you’re feeling good?”

I laughed. “Yes. It’s good. Very good. Actually, I was just thinking this morning—I feel the most clear-headed in…years.” And it’s all because of you, Chandler Spiros, I wanted to say, but couldn’t. Because Casanovas didn’t like clingy girls.

TWENTY-THREE CHANDLER

A

fter our talk, we left the museum. I lost track of time and I’m pretty sure Amy did too. After that, we meandered around the city, checking out some of our old haunts. I felt thankful I had a rare Saturday off-day so we could spend time together. As we walked along the marina, we held hands. Ironically, for all the girls I’d dated in my past, holding their hand was usually something I didn’t feel close enough with them to do. It was an intimate gesture, and one I didn’t hand out freely. And the one girl who I felt close enough to that I wanted to hold hands with was the same girl who would be leaving in under a week. I looked over at Amy, her serene expression, the easiness and familiarity. In the past, I would have dodged and ducked anything too deep but I found myself

wanting to hold her closer to me then merely holding her hand. In a week, my life would be back to normal. Did I want that? Not really. Right now, things were still simple. I avoided thinking about her inevitable departure. It’s what I did well, avoid anything that really mattered to me or had the potential to be. I didn’t need a psych major to know why. I knew all too well. Ever since Amy came tumbling back into my life, a very simple albeit meaningless one, we’d discussed my biological father, my family, her depression, some concept of a relationship between us and had our first fight. For me, that was a whirlwind in all things serious that I hated dealing with. I never had serious conversations let alone serious moments with a woman I was with, period. But with Amy, we’d always talked about personal, intimate details about ourselves. Back then, it’d been refreshing, when it started out as me just trying to get her into bed. Over the course of our time together, I’d realized that Amy wasn’t going to go into the box that I put most women in. She kept defying my expectations and challenging me in ways that sometimes left me baffled, confused and uncertain about myself and everything about my life. Now, years later, same kind of conversations but now that we were a little bit older, maybe not

any wiser, but we had history. And right now, I felt the weight of that history. The longest meaningful relationship I’d ever had was with this woman sitting next to me. That long gap between us didn’t matter. Some histories could never be forgotten or swept under a rug or put in a neat box to be left on the shelf to collect dust. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, though. Hours later, we stopped at a late night corner restaurant and ordered some falafels. After we ate, we walked towards an open-air plaza while we people watched as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the cityscape of Barcelona. Amy sat on the bench close to me, and she could not have looked more fuckable if she tried. Actually, the fact that she didn't have to try to look fuckable made her extra fuckable. "I like this," she said, smiling. Our legs touched while we sat. I looked around then back at her. We weren’t really doing anything, just sitting. “What do you mean by ‘this’?” I asked. "Let's see." She held out her hand and started to count out numbers on her fingers. "One, I love being in Barcelona again. Two, I love being with you. Three, I love falafels, and they are the best here of any city I’ve ever lived in. Four, I love that I know who I am going home with, and five..." She trailed off, and I could see a tear run down

her cheek that she quickly rubbed off. I took advantage of the moment to lean across the table and catch her off guard for a strong kiss, which she reciprocated by bringing her mouth hard toward mine. I wrapped my hand around her head and pulled her closer to me, swirling my tongue in her mouth, wanting to taste every inch of her. Finally we pulled away to our respective sides of the table. Amy's chest was rising and falling deeply when she pulled away. Her hand lingered on my wrist. She wiped another tear from her face. I smiled. "Squirt, why are you crying?" She sniffled and started laughing. "It's stupid." "It's not stupid." "How do you know? You don't even know what it is." "I know because whatever neuron connections made in that pretty little head of yours can't possibly be stupid." She began to speak, her tone serious. Her grip on my forearm tightened. "Being here with you, this week, I really am enjoying myself. Like when I went to get coffee for you this morning, and I was smiling, thinking about bringing it back to you." A heat radiated through my chest. Coffee this morning had been a small but appreciated gesture. I loved how much of a pleaser Amy was. It made me want to reciprocate however I could. "That's…what you feel stupid about? Enjoying

yourself this week?" I asked. “With me?” I tried not to make her sound silly, but of course we were fucking enjoying ourselves. We were a fantastic duo. "That's only half of it. I guess, I feel so silly because I have a great life back in Chicago by anyone's standards. My parents paid for my college. I live in a great part of the city. My friend and I are starting our own company. My parents are so proud of me for being successful and independent and making it on my own. But I think if I'm being honest with myself, I've felt a sort of nagging emptiness over the last few years. A voice that told me I would never be totally happy." For as much shit as Amy and I gave each other, it was weird to hear her being so serious and thoughtful, which meant I needed to pay attention. "So…Barcelona cured your depression?" I concluded. She chuckled, glancing up at me. "Goddamn it, Chandler! No! How hard do I have to spell this out? You help my depression. I love being with you. I like doing things that make you happy for no reason. I've never felt like that before with a guy. I like cooking for you so when you come home from your games you don't have to have an empty house. I like being there for you after your good games and bad ones. I like…you. I like being with you.” A wave of emotion washed over me,

inexplicable and unfamiliar feelings that I rarely entertained. She watched me, waiting for an answer, a response. I raked my hand through my hair. "Amy, wow. I don't know what to say." "How about say that I'm not crazy?” she asked, grabbing my hand, and grinning. “For thinking that I don't want this time to end." “You’re not crazy,” I said, and meant it. She smiled and rested her head against my shoulder. I blindly watched people pass by, wondering what I’d be doing if Amy wasn’t here. And the thought of that made me sad too, and I was happy that she was here. I felt a closeness, something that connected us on a level I’d never had with anyone else. It didn’t scare me, but I wasn’t sure what to do with it, her words that had more power then she realized. The sun had been down for a solid few hours and a chill had overtaken a nice, sunny day. Amy had left my apartment in such a hurry that she’d brought nothing but her purse. I got up, pulling her easily up onto her feet. She smiled, a little sleepily but it was cute, and she must have been quite relaxed. “I don’t know what it is about you Amy,” I said, pulling her into my body. For warmth, because she was shivering. Her arm immediately looped

around my waist. “You make me want to do things I’ve never done. Experience things that I haven’t.” She smirked, glancing up at me. “Oh yeah? And what haven’t you experienced? You look like you might have an idea right now.” In fact, I did and thought back to a fantasy of hers she’d told me, and I intended on wasting no time in complying with it. "Follow me." I smirked, and wrapped my arm around her entire body, landing it on her left asscheek as we walked. “Remember that church fantasy of yours?” “No. You wouldn’t...” Her eyes went wide as we strode quickly through one of the gothic cobblestone pedestrian walkways, hidden in the backstreets of historical Barcelona. “I would.” I took my hand out from being on top of her clothes and slipped it onto the raw skin of her ass, which was hot to the touch. I ran a finger around to her hipbone. I didn't need to reach lower to know what was happening between her legs. "Fuck Amy, you're wet already," I stated. I could feel her quivering at my touch. "Yes," she cooed, and that word was all it took. I switched from 'find a cab' mode to 'fuck it, we are going to find a place to do it outside' mode. Even though the city was big and heavily populated, there were still pockets of secluded

areas—if you knew where to look. I veered northward, the marina at our backs and moved us inland. The Gothic Quarter was the oldest part of Barcelona and a major tourist attraction because of its medieval past—and lots of old, Spanish, Catholic churches. On a Saturday night, even this late, it was packed but only specific plazas were occupied. The area had miles of narrow, labyrinthine pathways that only the locals knew well and I knew exactly where to go. I looked at Amy. She gave me one of her curious looks but seemed to be going along without resistance. This was going to be interesting. "Almost there," I said, and managed to take my hand off her ass for a minute so I could grab her hand and lead her quickly to a spot I’d visited when I first moved back to Barcelona. "Where are you taking me?" She smiled. "I haven't been to church in a while. Have you?" I smirked and winked at her. I swear I saw the air go out of her when I said those words. "Oh God. We're going to…right here? Oh God." She moaned. The few streetlights gave us just enough glow that we would make out the outline of the steeple of the church that we were passing by. The oldfashioned rock wall looked like it was honestly made in the year 1400.

"But how will we be able to get in…" Amy trailed off as she saw me back up and took a running start to get onto the brick. Using my arms, I pulled my body up and looked into the courtyard. It was not a huge space, but it had plenty of room for what we were about to do. I smiled as I flipped my body up and around the brick wall, then reached my arm down. She immediately figured out what my strategy, and reached her arms straight up. I wrapped my hands around her forearms and pulled her up. I paused as I held Amy in the air, realizing that I had a perfect view of her cleavage. My boner pressed against my jeans and into the rock. Rock on rock. "What are you looking at?" she whispered. "Your boobs." She rolled her eyes a little. "Will you just pull me up? Someone walking by might see us." “You don't have to tell me twice.” I pulled her body up, then jumped down into the inside of the courtyard. "Jump." I said, smiling. "Catch me with your mouth, please," she whispered as she licked her lips. I looked up and smacked my lips. "You know I can see everything between your legs right now?" She jumped, unafraid, and I caught her easily, but didn't put her down. Instead, I held her in my arms, enjoying the feel of her bare thighs on my

forearms as her skirt ran even farther up her ass. Her eyes caught mine before I set her down on the ground. She let out a breath of air as she hit the ground. When she turned around, her brown eyes had a fire in them that even I hadn't seen, burning even more than they were yesterday. I didn't think it was possible that I could want someone more after hooking up with them all week, but that's how I felt with Amy. Her eyes spurring me on, I grabbed her hips and backed her into the brick wall of the old gothic church. I interlocked the fingers of both my hands with Amy's and spread them out to either side of her body. "I'm going to make a religious woman out of you yet," I whispered. "If you fuck me as good as you have so far, I'll believe anything you want me to," she whispered back. I bit into her neck greedily lapping up her skin, running my tongue down to her shoulder. "On the other hand, you make me believe that anything is possible, Chandler." Fuck me if she didn't know exactly how to egg me on. I pressed my body harder into hers, and she moaned as my kisses trailed down her white v-neck shirt. My greedy mouth licked between her breasts, wanting to taste her nipples. A wave of heat passed over my body and without thinking, I grabbed

either sides of the ‘v’ of her shirt and before I could stop my hands, ripped her shirt right off, revealing Amy's lack of bra. Her mouth already open, she expelled a nasally moan before staring at me. "Chandler. You ripped my shirt." "The better to lick you, my darling," I growled in a low voice as I ran my tongue between her exposed breasts. She arched her back and palmed my head, massaging my scalp as I dragged my tongue down her stomach before reaching for her black skirt. "You better get this off too before it ends up ripped like your shirt." "Oh God, Chandler," she wiggled out of the short thing, revealing her lack of panties to me again. "You, Amy, are a very dirty girl." I smiled up at her from my knees. "What are you going to do about it?" she challenged, through glazed eyes. "I'm going to shut you up so you'll have to stop thinking for a few minutes." "I'm always thinking. You know I can't shut my brain off." I gave her one last glance before I tasted her. "We'll see about that." My tongue spiraled down the skin of her hips until my mouth landed between her trembling legs. The angle was awkward, but nothing would stop me from tasting her sweetness.

She arched her hips forward aiding me, I lifted up one leg and held it over my shoulder as I swirled my tongue on her clit. She leaned back against the brick wall to balance herself. My mouth wrapped around her wet slit, sucking and tonguing and lapping her up. "For the love of God, that feels amazing," she whispered. My mouth busy, I couldn't respond, but the fact that Amy was still forming coherent words disappointed me. I was going to make her stop thinking. She ground her hips hard against my mouth in quick shakes, my tongue finding the rhythm with her. My hand cupped her ass. I noticed she was standing on just the one foot, on her tiptoe, her leg shaking. I grabbed hold of that leg and swept it onto my shoulder to join the other, so the only thing she had to grab onto was the brick wall behind her. Oh, and my mouth. My mouth was anchoring her down. I almost forgot that little fact. While continuing to flick her clit with my tongue, I hooked a finger inside her. She cried out. She ground against me with her pussy and my mouth fought back. I hooked two fingers inside her. She screamed so loud I prayed that the church didn't have a priest inside it. Because if he came out and saw what Amy and I were doing…hell, I don't know. He'd

probably want to rescind his celibacy vow and join us. But Amy was all mine. My weird fantasy in the middle of going down on Amy, fingers inside her, brought me more inspiration to my fingers and tongue. How long had I waited for this moment? Fantasized about doing something this dirty, this laced with heat and emotion with Amy? And here we were at long last. I licked and flicked and fingered her and she let out an indecipherable noise that sounded a little like a screaming kid trying to yell English and Spanish at the same time. It was the hottest noise I'd ever heard. Inspired, with my other hand, I grabbed hard on Amy's breast. She screamed again and came like I'd never seen or felt her before. She spurted out onto my face and I greedily lapped her up as she orgasmed for what seemed like minutes. Finally she came back down to earth, her chest puffing. "Oh. My. Fucking. God. Chandler. Chandler." She spoke each word as a sentence between breaths. I unlatched her legs from my shoulders and set her down on the grass. Her knees were weak, and I had to hold her to keep her standing. She wrapped her arms around me and leaned on my chest as her body continued to convulse. I stroked her hair and

smiled. "I didn't even know that was possible," she said. "Me going down on you without your feet touching the grass?" I smirked and used my forearm to wipe her juices that were still left on my face. She laughed. "No. The fact that I…you know. On your face." She smiled from the eyes and ran a finger down my shirt. My clothedness was in stark contrast to her nakedness. She looked up at the moon and let out a laugh that turned to a sigh. "You are by far, the most ridiculous man I've ever met." "Well thanks. And if my hard cock is any indication, we aren't done fucking in this church courtyard." That put a smile on her face, and I instantly smiled back. "You do think too much. I have a new motto for you. For us." I let my mouth graze on her ear and spoke in a deliberately quiet, grizzly voice. "Less thinking, more fucking." "Oh God, Chandler. You are going to make me come again right now. Just standing here.” “You’ve been a good girl during all this, so I think I’ll allow that.” “Shut up, Chandler, it’s your turn now.” She squatted, yanked my pants down to my ankles, and looked back up at me with this twisted as fuck look. It was then that I knew Amy had equal parts devil and angel in her.

And it was also right then and there that I knew I loved her. I wanted this dirty sweet girl in my life for the rest of time. My brain was onto problem solving a whole new conundrum that I’d never thought of before, when suddenly I felt her swallow my cock whole, and any coherent thought that I’d had totally dissipated. I had to grab hold of the old brick wall for balance as she took me inside so deep. Her hands were wrapped around my legs. After I have no idea how long—could have been 30 seconds or five minutes—before she let herself off my cock and gasped for air. “How am I doing?” She breathed throatily, and flashed her eyes at me. “I think…I’ve reached…maximum hardness level,” I said, barely getting the words out. “Mmm. Level of difficulty reached? Maximum.” She giggled as she used her wrist to wipe away some of the precum that was dribbling from her lips. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and brought her to her feet. I kicked off my pants but kept my shoes on. My shirt came off, too. “Turn around, baby.” She put her hands on the wall and faced her gorgeous ass at me, all mine for the taking. Her boots helped to even out our height differences at

least slightly. She turned her head and watched me smiling, I grabbed her hips, then pushed my hard cock into her pussy bit by bit. She reached an arm up to caress my hair without looking, and I helped guide her onto my scalp. Her wetness allowed me to slide in this time with relative ease. My cock felt golden as it was swallowed up by Amy’s pussy. As if I weren’t emboldened enough, before I started, Amy turned her head to me and spoke a few words. “Do whatever you want with me, Chandler. I’m yours. This pussy is yours.” I damn near came in her just from hearing those words. Luckily, I didn’t, and soon I was pounding away at her from behind. Her body noted every movement of mine, however small it was. My hips slammed into the flesh of her ass, producing a slap every time we contacted. I ran my hands over ever part of her body I could. I gripped her hair and pulled her head back, wanting to smell her, touch every square inch of her skin, and likewise overcome every square inch of her with my presence. To this day, I have no idea how long we lasted for in this position. I remember we changed and I fucked her in the grass in missionary. Reverse cowgirl. Amy’s choice—I knew she loved that one. Like the circle of life, though, after an hour, we

were back in the position we started in and our bodies were covered in sweat. In my head, I replayed her saying the hottest words anyone had ever said to me. Do whatever you want with me, Chandler. I’m yours. This pussy is yours. They were the hottest words not just because they were hot words but because it was Amy saying them. We took a moment to catch our breaths, lying on the grass and looking up at the sky but I wasn’t quite done with her. I reached around once more to caress her clit, and she cried out, louder this time again. She moaned just a little, and that sent me over the edge. “I’m coming,” I growled. “Inside me,” she yelled. I came so hard, I was straight up woozy afterwards. I rested inside her, leaned on her as we both panted, exhausted. I wrapped up Amy from behind. Her body was so easy to wrap up, fit so naturally into me that way. She leaned back into me. “I fucking love…” I stopped myself short. Love you? Was this really the time for that? I don’t know. I’d never said the L word to anyone. Was a church courtyard after an hour-long fuck really the time to say something so serious and

life altering? “I love you, too, Chandler,” she said, before looking up at me with panic in her eyes. “What I mean is, I love you like an amigovio.” My heart was beating like crazy. At a loss for words, I glanced back up to the sky. Being here, naked, with the person I’d connected with most in the world, ever. Period. The moon was three quarters full, and the stars were talking to me, I swear. I even saw the sun to our left in the courtyard, and the message was clear. Time to say the fucking words. Wait a second, the sun? I glanced back to where I had seen the sun, but it was actually an older man in a priestly looking robe with a flashlight. “¿Hola? ¿Ustedes que hacen aqui?!” Amy saw the guy too, and frantically grabbed her clothes, and tried to fit back into her skirt. However, I’d ripped her shirt and she had to put it on backwards to cover her chest. Her face was beet red with embarrassment as she tied the loose ends at her lower back and nape to keep the back closed. I threw on my pants and shirt, then went over to the man and said hello. “Perdon, estamos perdidos. ¿Dónde está la salida?” He flashed his light at the exit gate with a disapproving frown, shaking his head. When he saw

Amy though, he perked up. “Dios mio,” he gasped, his eyes got a little wide. “Si,” I answered him. “Es mi diocita.” The man nodded, as though he suddenly understood. He said a few other things but went to open the gate. He gestured for us toward it, and to leave. I didn’t waste any time and took Amy’s hand and got us the hell out of there. I heard a loud ‘clank’ behind us. Thankfully, at whatever hour of the night it was, the streets were mostly empty. Amy leaned into my side. “What did you say to him?” “I told him what you were to me,” I said to her. “You told him I was your amigovia?” she said, sounding puzzled. “To a priest?” “No. I told him something else. Something I just decided.” “What’s that?” she asked. “That you are my goddess,” I answered. She smiled. We held hands and walked home through the old fashioned gothic streets of Barcelona.

TWENTY-FOUR AMY

A

fter the night in the churchyard, the floodgates for us came loose, literally and figuratively, over the next several days. We settled into a rather domestic routine. The sex was, obviously, amazing. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Every hour that he wasn’t training, or at a game or practice we spent together laughing, eating, walking Jess, and yes, screwing. And while having sex in a gothic church courtyard had fulfilled a lifelong fantasy of mine, I was pretty damn happy having sex in a plain old bed. I loved the way it creaked when Chandler slammed his hips into my ass, my hips, my legs. Considering how I’d left, my friends and family had been worried, and probably wondering if I’d jumped off a cliff yet. My dad, now Jake and Andrea, were the only ones that seemed to get that

I was handling myself just fine and asked if I was having fun and not how I was ‘feeling’. Even though he wasn’t my boyfriend, to have Chandler at my back felt damn good. They were also reminders of what I didn’t have at home, and what I had right here. I didn’t like thinking about the end of this vacation so I tried not to. I still wasn’t taking any of my meds but Chandler didn’t baby me, which made me appreciate him more. He did, however, watch me every once in awhile, making sure I was actually doing okay. I think he was finally starting to realize that he was my medicine. Now that the secret about my depression was out, it was like a weight had been lifted off me. Chandler and I even joked about the pills and their effects. We were sitting at the kitchen counter eating breakfast one morning, when he said, “Really. You’ve never tried Ambien sex?” “Um, no.” I stabbed my eggs with a fork. “Never heard of doing that.” “So, you take an Ambien—” “Which makes you pass out like right away!” I interjected. “Yes. But. If you manage not to fall asleep, apparently, it’s like the craziest sex ever.” He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what people say, anyway.” I shook my head. Only Chandler could turn my

lifelong demon into a joke and have me be okay with it. “You act like you’re some inexperienced type of guy sometimes, you know that? Like you haven’t slept with a ton of girls. You’re a damn Casanova.” He gave me a funny look. “Casanova?” he asked, frowning. I grinned. “Becca told me that was your nickname during college.” He made a face then schooled his face. “Am I?” he asked, almost innocently. “C’mon,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Everywhere we go, girls materialize out of nowhere, and I can see them almost literally getting turned on as they talk to you.” He laughed out loud. “You must be better at seeing this than me. Maybe I don’t have as many experiences as you think?” I sipped my coffee and thought about it. “I mean, I only have a small sample size, but I think it’s true.” “Maybe.” “Maybe it runs in your blood.” It was a joke but Chandler choked on his eggs and had to clear his throat with scalding hot coffee. “What did I say?” I asked, puzzled, and hitting him on the back as he coughed for a few more minutes. “Nothing, it’s just…” He looked away for a second then grabbed his empty plate to set in the

sink. “What do you remember about what I told you about my biological father?” I sat on my seat for a few seconds before I spoke, refraining from telling him that every memory of mine he was in was as clear as day to me. “Well, your mom thought he was an asshole and you’d never met him…but that was really it.” He nodded, slowly. “Well, I guess if I am a Casanova, it might actually run in my blood.” I shook my head. “What?” I asked, bemused. “I was joking, Chandler.” He topped off our coffees and sat back down next to me but stared down into his mug. “Mom and I got into an argument about…him…one time. She was dating Bob and I was being difficult about it.” He glanced over at me then away again, then stalled, taking a couple sips of coffee. “It’s funny,” he said, at last. “What?” I asked, softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’d never said one good thing about him,” he said, “other then that she got me out of the deal.” He paused, and seemed lost in thought for a while. “I’d forgotten that…” He shook his head. “Not that it makes up for everything but…it’s something I hadn’t had before.” Again, he fell eerily silent. I squeezed his shoulder. “Go on,” I encouraged. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I asked her

why she hated his guts so much because she’d really never told me. She always said he was worthless, that we were better off without him. But growing up without a dad, I wanted to know what he was like. I thought that my mom made him out as evil when he really wasn’t.” He laughed, but it was joyless. “During our argument, she told me the usual byline, and I lashed out. I said something horrible to her, which I won’t repeat because I never meant it.” He sighed, shaking his head. “She never held it against me either. But she told me, in that calm, reserved way of hers, that I was nothing like him, which I thought was weird, the way she’d phrased it.” Again, he stopped, and I could tell he was living that moment again. Moments, good and bad, but the past was powerful, and sometimes brutally painful. I didn’t know what to do or say, or if I should hug him or give him space. So I just sat there with my hand on his shoulder, waiting. I wasn’t going to push. He seemed to draw himself out of his head and looked over at me, but his gaze was somewhere else, inward, looking back at his life. He blinked, and the focus was back and on me. He smiled, ever so slightly, which always had a way of making me return it. “What?” I asked, gently. “I’m glad you’re here.” That simple sentence warmed me up, all over.

“Me too,” I whispered hoarsely, getting all emotional. He blinked again, and looked off but not lost inside himself like before. “Anyway… Apparently, my dad is quite the Casanova himself,” he said, his voice even, but not indifferent. “She told me that he’s got kids all over. Just leaves ’em like they’re nothing. Like I was nothing. And that’s when I realized what my mom was trying to keep me safe from all these years. Feeling unwanted. She’d tried her best herself, and…maybe she married Bob, in some ways, to give me the good, kind, decent father she’d always wanted for me.” Holy shit. I gulped, blown away by his selfrealization. I did hug him then and he let me. “I’m so sorry, Chandler,” I whispered, eyes stinging. “Your mom’s right, he is worthless.” “Yeah, well, life happens,” he said, with a short laugh. “And it’s twisted that I still ended up like him.” I pulled back, glaring. “No.” He eyed me back then smiled a little, putting an arm around my waist. “Okay, maybe not. I hope not,” he said, grimly. “You’re not,” I said firmly. Finally, a laugh, a nice one. “Okay, I can live with that.” “You’ve never wanted to meet him?” I ventured, carefully.

He shrugged. “I go back and forth. All I have are my mom’s thoughts and memories about him, and she’s not exactly fair but I know she hasn’t lied to me about the parts that matter,” he said, brows furrowing. “I don’t know. I guess a part of me has always wanted to know about him on my own terms, so that I could finally put that part of me, and my past, aside.” “Closure,” I said. “He’s been a ghost your whole life but he’s had the greatest impact on you and your mom. Makes sense.” “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But the other part of me is scared of meeting him, too.” He shook his head. Then his phone rang, interrupting what was possibly the most serious and longest conversation about Chandler ever. He glanced at his phone on the kitchen counter. “Shit, that’s probably Tony. I’m supposed to pick him up.” He checked the clock on the stove. “And I gotta go soon or we’ll both be late.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips, slid off his seat and headed toward his bedroom. He had a special workout with the team this morning, and rushed out with another quick grin, then was gone. I’d gone to several of his practices and two games in the past week, one that had been in Germany. He was amazing, and I’d been shocked to find how popular he was, not just in Spain but in Europe, in general. The fandom wasn’t as crazy as

it was in the US but Chandler was a clear favorite, getting a lot of attention from the media that had been at the game, to fans chanting his name and wanting his autograph and selfies after their big win. With the stats he’d been putting up while I’d been here, I still couldn’t believe he didn’t try out for the NBA. But he was so touchy on that subject and I hadn’t wanted to go on about that since I kept bringing up his biological father. For the next few hours it was just me and the dog. Funny how this vacation was turning me into something of a homebody. Jess and I cuddled on the couch, watching TV for a little while. It was nice to brush up on my Spanish but my mind was on other things. I replayed our conversation a millions times and in different ways, trying to put myself in his shoes. Maybe Chandler’s mom had a point about his dad being an asshole, but what if he’d cleaned up his act since then? Didn’t we all deserve a second chance? What if, like Chandler, he was afraid of what he’d find by resolving his past? I grabbed my laptop from my luggage and sat back down on the couch, upsetting Jess before she settled back down. I popped open my laptop, as my idea started to develop. For the rest of the afternoon, finding Chandler’s dad consumed my entire being. I knew his mom’s name was Stefana Spiros, but

I didn’t know his dad’s surname. Chandler grew up in rural area of Indiana but again, I didn’t know much beyond that. I did a Google search for her name, and low and behold, I found her wedding announcement to Bob, who looked goofy happy, from an Indianapolis online newspaper. It was a stark contrast to Stefana, who looked to be in her early 30s, but with a mild-mannered smile. The announcement was pretty basic but it had some information. Like a bio for each. Bob was a local boy, as was his extended family. Stefana had no family mentioned, other then Chandler, who was listed as ‘from a previous relationship’, and her occupation. Really scant. I guess Chandler had no real family outside him and his mom, and now Bob and his half-brother. Then, I waded through—of all things—her high school newspaper database, which had made a recent effort to archive all of their old newspapers online. She was a local girl and I stared at Chandler’s mom for a second. Wow, she was a hottie back in the day with her tan skin and thick brown hair. I came across a picture of Stefana and her date at prom her senior year, then stared at for the next five minutes. I didn’t think it’d be that easy but when I looked at the guy, it was unmistakable. Stefana had dark brown eyes while her date had blue-green eyes. Some of the facial features were

also familiar as was his height. The guy was definitely older, whereas she looked to be about eighteen. And boy, the man even looked like trouble. Chandler was twenty-six. He’d mention in passing his mother was around forty-five. The math added up. The man’s name was Jack Whitehead. I backsearched his name and crossed it with a couple of other databases, including one of those online criminal database you had to pay for. So worth it, I decided. What I found was damn interesting. I got up and went to the small table by the window where Chandler had his own laptop and a basic printer. I printed off a couple of pages of information, stuffed them in an envelope and hid it in my luggage bag. I’d wait for the right moment; it would be therapeutic for Chandler to know who his father was. I was sure of that.

***

E ACH NIGHT between Chandler and I seemed more intense than the night before. The intensity of our physical encounters was due to something that was

rapidly becoming evident: I was about to leave and go back to Chicago tomorrow, and we hadn’t had The Talk. The fucking talk. I didn’t want to have it, because I knew what it might mean. I assumed he didn’t want to have it, either. Yet, as we lay in bed on the Friday night before my flight was scheduled to leave, neither of us addressed the whole ‘me leaving’ topic. In fact, we’d been living in the present like a fairytale. Chandler’s breaths were deep and I knew he was sleeping. My eyes were open as I pondered what to do about this whole situation. The past week, we’ve been the kind of couple I’d always wondered if we could be. We’d opened up so much to each other. Massive breakthroughs. He’d almost said he loved me but almost wasn’t fact. He wanted to be with me, but there were still things we’d yet to discuss: a future. What that looked like for me, him and us. I knew that a perfect week didn’t change someone’s perception of what they wanted out of their life and had wanted for a long time. Was the best week and half of my life the only time I’d get to have him, in the most perfect way? We had few problems for this short time and whatever issues we’d had, we’d resolved them, together. And I felt stronger because of it, and I

thought Chandler did too. We just focused on each other. The real world didn’t exist but soon, it would. We’d both have to face reality. Perhaps it was better to live on, in bliss, as amigovios. Or, as I was beginning to say in my mind, the ‘ambiguous novios.’ What the fuck were we? The old fears and reasons I’d made up the pact years ago started to resurface. Did he do this with all kinds of girls? A weeklong romp then move on? As strong as our connection was, a cloud of doubt lingered over me. Everywhere we went, women knew him. I never knew if they knew him because he was just a tall, handsome as hell man who played basketball for Barcelona’s local team and had lived in this city for several years, or if their was a history there with some of these women. But I wasn’t about to confront him and be that crazy girl who made a mountain out of a molehill. I’d gone into this knowing full well what may happen, or not. I burrowed further into Chandler’s body, loving the skin-to-skin contact. God, it was like a drug. No, he was a drug. I had stopped taking my depression meds for the entire time here, and I’d never felt better. Whereas before, when I was working for Green PR, sure I got by taking my meds and going through the motions; but I always felt like I was playing the perfect version of me, never that I was just being

me. Here, in Barcelona, at Chandler’s side, the reality was that I felt more me than I’d felt in a long time. Years. Since…fuck. Since the last time I was in Barcelona. And I liked this version of me. I loved not having to act happy to wake up every morning and go to a job I didn’t much care for. Not having to look at my pills and wonder if I would be a slave to them for the rest of my life. I didn’t want this week to end. Because come Sunday morning, when I arrived back in the U.S., I was going to be in for a serious Chandler hangover. And something told me a Chandler hangover couldn’t be cured with a nice greasy plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns from Debi’s Diner. Would Chandler ask me to stay in Barcelona? God, how could I even think that was an option? This was a vacation, an escape. Barcelona wasn’t real life. In real life, you had a job, you had responsibilities, you had to make money. In real life, I couldn’t just cavort around being fuck buddies with the most gorgeous man in this goddamn city, having kinky-as-hell sex next to a damn church. Oh, wow. My mom was not ever going to hear that story. I needed to touch base with reality, I decided. I slid out from under Chandler’s arm. He kept

sleeping. I put on some shorts and a t-shirt and went into the living room. I opened up my laptop and plopped down on the couch. Who was the most down to earth person I knew who could help me make some sense of everything that was going on in my life right now? I knew what my mom would tell me. Come home and get my head out of the clouds. Ironic, since she once moved across the country to be with my dad. My dad would tell me to do whatever my heart desired. While I was grateful for all the love he and my mom had given me over the years, neither of them could talk me through this. The answer came to me in a flash, a duh moment. Andrea fucking Diggers. We’d only become friends this past summer, but she was one of the strongest women I’d ever met and we’d become super close. Even though she was a few years younger than me, she had her shit together more than most people my age. I also knew she’d never judge me. I’d helped her through some hard times, and we rolled great like a team. I looked at the time. It was a quarter to 9 p.m. here so Andrea would be up and about. I shot her a message through Skype text asking her if she could video chat. She was, and I dialed her in. Next thing I knew, her gorgeous face had popped up on the

screen, causing me to smile from ear to ear. “Andrea! Hi!” I grinned and as I did, I made a personal resolution this next year to spend more time with the people I loved the most. Like her. Her wavy brown hair was cut in bangs around her eyes. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle even more than they normally did. “Well hello! Happy New Year! What a nice surprise!” “Yeah, how’s the weather in Chicago today?” “Freezing. But…luckily, it’s pretty warm here inside Jake’s apartment.” Just then I heard powerful footsteps on the ground in Andrea’s room, and I saw Jake’s body cross behind Andrea. He poked his head into the frame, right next to Andrea’s. “Amy! How is Spain, you crazy fucking girl?” “Hey, take it easy.” Andrea shot him a slightly dirty look, but followed it up with a smile. “It’s okay, I don’t care if Jake swears.” “I know you don’t care, but we have little ones to worry about now—” “Wait, little ones? With a ‘s’? I thought you just adopted Tate?” Andrea had mentioned to me before I left for Spain that they were engaged and sent me the ring pics, but anything else was knew to me. Andrea looked at me blankly, then glanced at Jake, who nodded. She turned back to face me and

ran a hand through her hair. Jake gripped high on her shoulder. “Well, we were going to wait until we were further along to tell everyone. But Amy, I’m pregnant.” “Oh my gosh!” I squealed. “Congratulations you two!” Jake smiled and moved a hand up to Andrea’s face, turning her face for a kiss. I thought I saw some tongue action, but hey, who was I to judge? “We just found out,” Jake boomed, and glanced at Andrea. “I already knew it—I’ve noticed Andrea’s boobs getting bigger.” Andrea rolled her eyes and shook her head. The eye contact the two of them made said it all, though. Just the way their eyes could graze over each other and look back at me showed me how they thought about each other. “It was a bit of a surprise—obviously we wanted to have the wedding first. I smiled. “You two are so in love. What’s your secret?” “A healthy sex life,” Jake joked. “Now with that pearl of wisdom, I have to go pick up Tate from school. It’s two p.m. here. Talk to you later!” “Bye Jake.” I waved. Andrea looked back at me, a soft, satisfied expression on her face. She’d been through a million challenges to get to where she was, and she seemed so damn happy. It made me warm inside.

I had told Andrea and Jake about my depression, in parts, over the fall and winter. To have their full support and to be able to lean on her and Jake when I felt myself getting depressed had done wonders for me. It was a different kind of support that I got from them versus support from my family, who treated me with kid gloves. By now, she knew everything there was to know about me. “Well, thanks for indulging us,” she said, but then got serious. “For some reason I have a feeling something is on your mind, though. You have that look.” I took a deep breath. “So. Remember Chandler? I told you about him when we were drunk—” “That night out at McClellan’s celebrating the creation of our new PR Agency,” she said, laughing. “Of course I remember.” I’d told her the story as best I could, leaving out as little detail as possible. From our first night and agreement to continue being “amigovios” that we soon threw right out the window. Like a good friend, she nodded and listened while I talked myself out. “Wow. So…you think you might be…” She tailed off, trying to find the right words. “You think you are really falling for him? Like, in love?” “Yes. But there are so many question marks. It’s only been a week and I’m already thinking long-term, me moving here or asking him to move

back to the States. That’s crazy, isn’t it?” I raised an eyebrow, seeking her approval. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy. She went silent for a few seconds before speaking. “This reminds me of something Jake told me when we were dating. He said, ‘when you know, you know’.” She paused and cocked her head a little bit. “Do you know?” “I love him so fucking much,” I blurted out, and as soon as did I reacted with shock at my own words. “Holy shit. I do love him.” “There you go. Problem solved.” “Uh, the problem is not solved. We haven’t had the talk about…the future. And there’s other things that we haven’t really discussed either.” I frowned. “Also. He lives in Barcelona. He plays basketball here. I live in Chicago. We’re starting a business together. And I’m going to have to be there while you are…you know.” Andrea chuckled, and I swear I heard her drawl partially come out even just listening to her laugh. “You crack me up, lady. I won’t be having this baby for another eight months, god willing. That’s plenty of time to work on the business. Of course I’d prefer to have you around, I admit it. But you can handle most of the behind-the-scenes work online, and I’ll do all of our in-person client acquisition.” “Oh.” I swallowed and ran a hand through my

hair. It registered that I’d been using the fact that I had to go home as an out to avoid confronting the real issue: the fact that I’d finally found a man that I wanted to give my heart and soul to, but I couldn’t put myself out there because I was scared he’d eventually reject me. “You got some thinking to do, don’t you?” She spoke matter of fact. “Thinking about what?” Chandler’s voice jolted me. He plopped down on the couch next to me wearing nothing but his boxers. “Hi there!” He waved enthusiastically. “Hi,” Andrea returned with her drawl. “Oh my goodness gracious,” Chandler replied, pulling out a surprising Southern-ish accent. He turned to me. “Now Amy, you never told me you had country friends. You been holding out on me?” I rolled my eyes. “This is my friend Andrea. Andrea, this is Chandler.” Chandler sat up straight. “Ah, so this is your PR partner, huh?” he asked, looking at me then Andrea. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled, and giving me a look of approval when Chandler wasn’t looking. “Well, sorry to be curt but I have a conference call with Harry Yerac I need to prepare for in a few minutes. “You know the owner of the Jaguars?” Chandler’s mouth hung open.

“He’s our biggest client.” “Wow. Okay then. Nice to meet you Andrea, maybe we’ll meet in the flesh sometime.” Andrea said goodbye to me, and her giant engagement ring flashed me as she reached forward to shut her laptop. “Get dressed Squirt,” Chandler said as he dug his face into my stomach. “Where are we going?” I asked, laughing. “It’s a surprise,” he said, peering down at me. “Put that hot ass dress on that I like, though.” “Are you talking about my lace-up, mock-neck and sleeveless bodycon dress?” “Is that the red dress that makes your ass look really good? I snickered. “You’re never going to let me teach you fashion, are you?” He sat up in the couch, pulling me up with him. He wrapped his arms around me. “Maybe later you can do a fashion show for me. And after that I can show you the ropes for some things I know how to do.” He winked, his intent clearly devious. My heart beat a little harder. “You want to tie me up?” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Well, we can talk about it, but there are some soft ties I have that I’ve never used. If you trust me, of course. We can talk about it more during dinner.” My body tensed at his mention of toys in the

bedroom. I’d never used them—not because I was opposed to them in any way, but because I never trusted a guy enough to try them out. The truth was, as he wrapped his arms around me, I realized that I’d never trusted anyone as much as I did him. “I’m not opposed to trying some things,” I said. “But we should definitely talk it over.” “Yes, let’s.” As he kissed the nape of my neck, I wondered if he’d like the surprise I had planned for him during dinner. Though it didn’t have anything to do with ropes.

TWENTY-FIVE CHANDLER

H

er ass did look really good in the red dress, I thought as I opened the door for her to get in the cab. However, my feelings had evolved beyond that tonight, and I fully realized something I had been coming to terms with over the last week. I fucking loved Amy. As we rode in the cab to our destination through the colorfully lit streets of Barcelona, the thought finally fully materialized inside me. I loved Amy, and tonight was going to be the night I told Amy I loved her. I hadn’t told anyone. Not my family back in Indiana, Le Ral, not Doña Maria. And it didn’t matter, either. This was between Amy and me. I watched my reflection in the window of the vehicle while I mouthed the words.

She nuzzled her head into me, taking the middle seat of the cab as I stared out the window aimlessly. I’d never come close to loving a woman. Amy had been the only one in my life to break me down to my core elements. Would she forgive me for my past? That was still to be determined. But most girls just looked at me like a great way to spend a night. Or a month. Even though they convinced themselves they wanted a deeper relationship with me, they’d never understood me the way Amy did. I was not a guy that thought about the future with a woman. That had been my philosophy since I left for college. I always knew what happened the next day, but that was as far as I thought. With Amy, I had no clue what tomorrow would bring. It scared the everlasting shit out of me. I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her into me. She let out a quiet sigh. Since we left my apartment, she seemed preoccupied. Was she as nervous as me that this was her last day in Barcelona together? Maybe it would be fine. We could Skype or something. I turned my head and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She smelled tropical, like sweet fruit. I wondered if that was how she’d taste tonight, too. Later tonight, I’d find out. My cock twitched at the thought. The fact that Amy might be open to experimenting with being tied up had me wanting her even more.

The cab pulled to a halt in front of the Argentinean-style steakhouse. It was a renowned place in the area, not only for their incredibly tender beef but also for their amazing pre-dinner appetizers. We came in and the hostess immediately showed us the way to the special table that I’d requested, a booth in the corner that would afford us some conversational privacy. You know, because it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Trust me, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was leaving tomorrow. I let Amy lead the way. I needed to enjoy every single minute I could watching her breathtaking strut in front of me. “It smells ridiculously good in here,” Amy remarked as she slid into our booth. “They make all of their steaks over a woodfired grill. Gives the food a smoky flavor.” I followed suit, sliding into my side across from her. “Your server will be right with you,” the hostess said, setting our menus at the end of our table before turning on her heels and walked away. “Hey, I can’t tell you how many of my boyfriends have taken me to seafood places for some ‘special date’ like it was some kind of big deal,” Amy said, picking a menu. “While I’m worrying about dying the whole time.” A storm of jealousy brewed inside me. I played

it cool, not letting it show on my face, because I had no right to be jealous. But there was no sense in pretending that the thought of her with other guys had no effect on me. And these boyfriends that clearly didn’t know her as well as I did. However, the idea of her with a guy after me—hell no. The server appeared, a twenty something with dark features and black hair. We ordered a bottle of wine, some French fries, and Brussels sprouts that she assured us were better than either of our moms’. For our mains, I got the short rib and she chose the steak. When the server had gone Amy was staring at me, a funny look on her face. “Do you know her?” I returned her look blankly. “Know who?” “Our server,” she said, glancing behind me briefly. “The way she was looking at you. It was like she knew you.” “I’ve never seen Victoria before in my life,” I said, referring to the name on her nametag. “See?” Amy said, her expression tight. “Right there. You already know her name.” “I’m good with names. It was also on her nametag.” I was perplexed about where this animosity was coming from. “Maybe she watches European basketball and recognizes me? Who knows?” I added. Before I could say more, Victoria

arrived with our bottle of wine. “Tu vino, Señor,” she said and smiled at me. I tasted, nodded, and she filled both of our glasses with the dark red liquid. “Now you can’t tell me I’m crazy, the way she smiled at you when she poured your wine,” Amy said once Victoria had left. I scrunched my face up. “What are you talking about? We are paying customers. Of course she’s going to smile at us.” “Whatever.” Amy shook her head and grabbed her glass. I reached across the table and grabbed her forearm. She didn’t reciprocate. “What the hell is going on right now?” “Nothing,” she said, and took a big gulp of wine. “Squirt.” Her nickname came low and serious, more menacing than I had meant it to be. “What the hell is this really about?” She scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Chandler, don’t act like you don’t know. My flight leaves at nine a.m. tomorrow to go back to Chicago. That’s in less than twelve fucking hours. And we haven’t even had a talk about our status. All we’ve talked about today was about how you want to use ropes…or whatever…tonight. But in the car you were silent. And, I don’t know, I thought that girl was giving you the eye. You

seriously don’t see it?” “I don’t know, Amy. I don’t care what Victoria is looking at! I’m staring at you right now. Just you. You’re the only one I want to stare at.” For the rest of my fucking life. Fuck. I sipped my wine and repeated the words in my head. I love you, Amy. I know it might seem crazy, but I do. Try as I might, the words didn’t come out. It was like there was a demon holding my mouth together, blocking me from saying them. I took a big gulp of my wine. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then looked up at the ceiling. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I was overreacting. It’s just, I really care about you Chandler. And I’m scared about what’s going to happen when I leave tomorrow. Will this— whatever this is—fade away as quickly as it started? Your goddamn presence is like a drug to me. Will I have to start taking my meds again when I get back home? I hate it, this uncertainty. It makes me sick. And it makes me hate you when girls give you looks like she did. And I know I’m overreacting again.” “Squirt.” She was really worked up. Her cheeks had a rosy red hue now. “What?” “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something

out. This week and a half has been amazing but I’m still trying to process what this all means.” I love you, Amy. “Okay.” She nodded, exhaling but calmer. “You’re right. It’s not like you’ll disappear into thin air tomorrow.” The server came out with our Brussels sprouts, which were topped with Pancetta. We forked them one at a time from the same bowl in the middle of the table. Skeptical as I’d been about ordering sprouts, they were actually quite good. “You know, it’s actually kind of cute watching you try to verbalize your feelings.” She flashed a smile at me and seemed less anxious. I chuckled a little. “Yeah, well, I kind of suck at it, if you can’t tell.” She grinned, which made me feel less anxious. While we ate, I watched Amy for a few seconds. I was flattered by the idea that she thought I actually helped her deal with her depression, but mind over matter was only one part of dealing. I would never fault her for thinking she needed her meds and I hoped she really was doing okay without them. I could still tell she was nervous about something because she was playing with her food. “Don’t like it?” She looked up and frowned at the sprouts. “I like the bacon,” she said. I laughed, and when she joined in, everything

felt right again. Then she gave me a look, the kind that made me wonder what she was up to. “What is it?” I asked. “Just that…there is so much more to you then most people will ever know,” she said, with a lot of emotion. “Hell, I think I’ve started to get to know you, and I’ve barely scratched the surface. Which is why I have something for you.” She reached into her purse, pulled out an envelope, and set it between us on the table. “What’s this?” I asked, just looking at it. She smiled. “I did a little research for you on something that I thought you might like to know. Or should I say someone.” “Someone?” I furrowed my brow. For some reason, a pit formed in my stomach. “What someone would I want to know about?” “Well, I was thinking about our conversations. Now, and in college, and you definitely still have some loose ends you should tie off. Closure. And I think it’ll help you to know who your birth father was. And, if you want the chance to meet him.” My eyes went wide, adrenaline spiked through me. “My birth father? What the…what the fuck?” Slowly, I picked up the envelope, not sure what to think or feel. She tensed up, her eyes darting to the envelope to my face. “I thought you’d like to know, because…”

I flipped the envelope around in my hand, but didn’t open it. “I haven’t met my father for twentysix years of being alive and there’s a damn good reason for that! Does this tell me who he is? What’s in here anyway?” “If you don’t want to open it, then don’t.” There was pleading in her voice. “I thought it might help you deal with some of your…issues.” “My issues?” I raised an eyebrow at her but she said nothing, speechless for once. It was one thing to wonder and not know, and another to have this dropped on you like a bomb. I felt hot all over, my heart was beating hard in my chest and I knew I was about to lose it. “All right, I just, I can’t. I need a second…” Abruptly, I got out of the booth and stormed off towards the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, trying to calm down. She’d crossed a line, and I was on the brink of saying something I couldn’t take back. So she wanted me to meet my father. Maybe I should meet him. Maybe that would be good for me. Maybe… Our conversation about him rose to the surface and while I understood this gesture was coming from a meaningful place, it wasn’t any of Amy’s business what I chose and her pushing me down that road of my past wasn’t her choice; it was mine. I straightened the sleeves of my blue button down and unbuttoned the top button. Was it just

me, or was it getting fucking hot in here? I heard a knock on the door. No one else was in here with me. I opened it up and found Amy standing there. Her cheeks were fully flushed. “I’m sorry,” she began, her tone serious and looked on the verge of tears. “I shouldn’t have brought that up to you. It’s not my right to tell you if you should or if you shouldn’t find your father.” She shook her head. “I just…I thought if anyone could give you a push toward confronting that part of your past, it would be me…” “I know what you mean,” I said, picking up where she trailed off. I raked a hand through my hair. This shocker from anyone but Amy and I would have gone ballistic. “You thought we had a really special connection. And you know what, we fucking do.” I paused. Amy was right, in that my biological father has been MIA my whole life but his impact on me and my mom was forever. My ‘issues’ stemmed from his defection of our family. If anything, confronting him, really meeting the man he is, might help me. “Maybe you’re right. I should find more about my father. Christ, I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m beyond fucked up, and if I talk to him it’ll just mess me up more.” As we stood in the doorframe, she looped her fingers around my belt. “I didn’t mean to mess with your mind or anything like that.” I smiled, looking down at her. The emotion in her eyes spoke

volumes, conveying just how sorry she’d been to rock the boat. My boat. The florescent lights in the hallway made her red dress sparkle. The devious wheels of my mind started to churn. I don’t know if it was a reaction to the emotional stress or what but I wished we were back at my apartment, alone. “Did we just have another fight?” she asked, her lips pouty. “That’s gotta be a record, two fights in less than two weeks…” To me, we weren’t fighting. I sure as hell hadn’t made it easy for her to get close to me so she’d had to push a little to get me to open up. I poked my head out and glanced down either side of the hallway. It was empty. I looked back down at Amy. “Not…fighting,” I decided, “just having an interesting conversation.” She smiled as I put a hand on her hips, pulled her into me, and whispered, “But I do think it’s time we kissed and made up, just to make sure we’re both on the same page.” Her eyes softened and a slow grin spread across her lips. “What kind of make up did you have in mind?” I led her inside the bathroom and dead bolted the door shut. We made out against the wall like a couple of teenagers who had fifteen minutes until curfew would be up. She draped a leg around mine. I placed my hands under her until I’d lifted her off

the floor, fully, while we kissed. “Mmm Chandler,” she whispered. “I’ve thought about this before.” “Have you, baby?” I quipped back. “What else happened in your fantasy?” She whispered something lightly in my ear and giggled. I smiled from ear to fucking ear when I heard what she said. “Turn around and hike up your dress,” I whispered forcefully as I grabbed a fistful of her hair out of the way of her ear. She complied, though she had to shimmy a little to get the dress over the curve of her ass because it was so tight. My cock ached as she revealed inch by inch of creamy skin to me. “Hands on the wall,” I ordered. I dipped a hand around to the front of her legs and fingered her clit for a minute. She let out a nasally moan. “Well, looks like someone is wet already.” “Please, Chandler,” she moaned. “Just fuck me already.” I smiled at this beautiful fucking woman submitting to me. She was both angel and devil at once. I grabbed a bunch of her hair, put my hand on her lower back, and straightened her hips so they were square with me. My cock was already a steel rod looking at her like this. I undid my belt then unzipped my pants and pulled it out, running a

figure eight with it across the flesh of her ass, teasing her. “This what you want, is it?” “Yes,” she murmured. I ran the head of my cock on the outside of her wet slit for a minute, making her tremble. Her hips rocked back and forth, back and forth, until she was so wet that I slid right inside her with my length. She cooed and pressed her ass into me until she’d taken me fully. “God, you’re so hot when you moan like that,” I whispered. I began with slow, deep strokes that messaged her and filled her methodically. I worked my cock over her clit. “Harder,” she purred, glancing at me over her shoulder. “You want it harder baby?” I confirmed. “You sure you can handle it?” “Chandler, please. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can against this wall. Right now.” I ran my hands over her hips until I was gripping her legs. If Amy wanted hard, I’d give her hard. I plunged into her with all my width and length, and she let out a yelp, almost at the exact moment the smack sound of my hips on her flesh was made. I fucked Amy as hard as I could. I fucked her like it was our last fuck and my life depended on it. I became an animal. For all intents and purposes,

this could be our last fuck. Jesus Christ Chandler, get out of your head. She gripped me and I slammed into her again and again. She screamed like she didn’t give a shit about the people outside. Like we weren’t in a public bathroom. But the fact was, we needed each other so badly we couldn’t have waited until after dinner to make up. I slammed my hips against her ass so hard, it was turning that special shade of pink. I spanked her a couple of times, and she cried out. “Chandler fuck, I’m coming.” Her body wrenched and she moaned, tightening around me. My spine tingled. I came hard inside her, my cock twitching as I shot spurts into her. “Fuck, Amy,” I said when we were done, panting. “Just stay like this for a second,” she begged, closing her eyes, and grabbing onto my hips. “I love feeling you like this.” The rush of the moment was over, but I still hadn’t told her I loved her. The words lingered on my tongue. I swear, I was about to say them when there was a strong knock at the door. “Coming!” I shouted back. Amy giggled. “You mean you already came.” “Ha-ha,” I said as I pulled my pants up from my ankles. Amy pulled her dress back down. “You ready to go become respectable members

of society again?” I asked. She shrugged. “Do we have to?” I nodded. “Unfortunately.” We washed our hands, cleaned up a bit, and headed outside to enjoy the rest of our dinner. The look on the guy’s face when the two of us walked out together was priceless.

TWENTY-SIX AMY

B

ack at the table, the vibe was different now, in spite of the envelope that sat on the table between us. “You make me high, Chandler. And I don’t want this to end,” she breathed, her voice a bit throaty her eyes seared into mine. I swallowed, reaching a hand toward her. “I don’t want this to end, either.” She took my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine. The server interrupted us our moment with our main course. “Steak for the lady, short rib for you, sir. Anything else I can get you?” We shook our heads. When our server had left, she spoke again. “What are we going to do?” “We’ll figure something out,” I repeated but I had no idea how. Amy leaving tomorrow was really

going to happen. Our whole lives were on different continents. It would be crazy to just…change all that on a whim, wouldn’t it? The hope in her eyes turned into a smile that spread across her face. She took a deep breath, cutting into her steak and saying nothing in return. I reiterated, as firmly as possible, “I don’t know how we’ll do it, but we’ll figure out a way, Amy.” She set her fork and knife down on the plate, a worried look on her face. “I’m scared, though,” she said, quietly, meeting my gaze. “I don’t want to do long distance. In the past, it’s gone straight downhill.” “Well, I’m not like any of the other guys you’ve dated. Would you agree?” “Yes, but…” I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You can Skype striptease for me any time you want.” I brushed a thumb across her cheek and her breath caught. “Chandler. I know…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “But this is all moving so fast. It’s a little hard to believe how strong my feelings are for you.” “Same here.” I sat back, and searched for the appropriate words to tell her she meant everything to me. In my past, I’d always been an expert at saying the right thing to a girl at the right time to get what I wanted.

But now, there was no right thing. There was only the truth. And I kept stopping myself short of saying those truths, and I couldn’t fathom why. I knew what I felt was real but the old Chandler was still there, fighting the new me emerging. If Amy left, would all those feelings disappear? Was I just caught in the moment? It hit me that the distance would prove what Amy meant to me. If I moved on, went back to my old ways, then it was just a perfect week. If not… “More wine?” I asked, uncomfortable with my line of thought. “Yes, please.” She tipped her glass toward me before I re-filled it. We ate in silence for a few long minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable but we were both kind of in our own heads, probably thinking about the same thing. Amy had given me some news, so I decided to give her some of my own. My voice came out dark and a little hoarse. “My shot came back this week,” I said, clearing my throat. She stopped in mid-motion, about to fork her food into her mouth, and gave me a confused look. “Your shot? What shot?” I ran a hand through my hair. “My shot has been off all year since the season started back in October. Coach was about to tell me to stop taking three pointers it got so bad. Since you’ve been here, my shot came back. I don’t know why exactly,

although I have my theories.” A slow and solid smile spread across her face. “Is this your middle school way of telling me you really really like me? That you shoot the ball better when I’m here?” I laughed, somewhat awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess,” was what came out. “So your shot came back, and I’ve stopped taking my meds. Sounds like we are pretty much the cure for each others ailments.” Amy flashed her dark brown eyes at me. “There is something I’ve been wondering, actually. If you don’t mind. It’s not as personal as your dad.” “Oh?” I asked, trying not to tense. Whenever Amy ‘wondered’ about something, it was usually pretty devastating. At least for me, but I was starting to get used to it, though she always managed to take me by surprise. “What is it?” “I’ve seen you at practice and in the two games since I’ve been here,” she said, leaning forward. “You’re better than just good. Why don’t you play for the NBA in the U.S.? Why do you play in Europe? You’ve never told me.” For a number of reasons but those words don’t come out. Instead, I said, “I like it here.” “But the league isn’t as good.” I shifted in my seat, getting more uncomfortable. “I can ride the bench in the NBA, or be a star here. I choose to be a star.”

“Oh,” she said, and nodded. “So you’d rather be a big fish in a small pond?” “You could put it that way, sure,” I said. “All I want to do is play.” “You don’t think the NBA could use a shooter like you?” I scoffed, looking at her. “Doing scouting research now, are we? What do you know about the NBA?” She scoffed right back. “So what if I don’t know everything about basketball statistics? I’m in sports PR, Chandler, and I know enough to know talent when I see it. You’ve made seven three pointers in the past two games. One thing I know about basketball teams, they are always looking for shooters. And ones that never miss.” “I’d rather play in the game than be a role player,” I repeated, and I knew I was getting prickly about it. Her lips pursed as she considered my words. “So you’d never…you know. Move back to the States?” “Why would that even be in the picture?” I asked, getting defensive. “So…it’s not in the picture?” she asked, slowly. “Like…not at all?” I raked my hand through my hair and squinted. “What are you getting at, Amy?” “Forget it,” she said quietly, her expression

carefully smooth. “I won’t forget it. What”—I raised an eyebrow at her—“are you getting at?” Her eyes narrowed at me. “Oh come on. Don’t sit there and act dumb, like you haven’t thought about what’s going to happen when my flight leaves tomorrow.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” I returned, not hiding my frustration, “I thought we were just enjoying tonight.” A hanging silence that was nearly unbearable. We were right back to square one. Amy broke it, and I knew I was fucking this up by the look on her face and the tone of her voice. “Is this week it?” “This was a great week,” I said, trying to even out my own voice. “Isn’t that enough? For now? Why the rush to figure it all out? Why not take things slow?” My words only seemed to make things worse. “So you’re just going to pretend like you have no idea what’s going to happen between us once I leave?” she asked, her voice…empty. I shook my head at her. “I told you, we’ll Skype. We’ll see what happens. I’m not going to just try out for the NBA suddenly, just because a girl I’m in l—because a girl I like lives an ocean away.” She took a big bite of her steak so she didn’t

have to say anything for a minute. “Okay,” she finally said. She wasn’t angry in the way she said ‘okay’, which was quite possibly the worst answer to anything I’d ever asked. I saw sadness, hurt, and disappointment in her eyes. But I looked down at my plate, my thoughts and feelings still unsorted and not yet unpacked about Amy and me. The rest of the meal was relatively quiet. I knew what Amy was getting at—she wanted me to come back to the U.S. But the fact was I couldn’t up and leave my life here for a girl—no matter how much I loved her. I just…couldn’t. That wall in me was standing firm and I wasn’t going to flip a switch, roll over and suddenly become the Chandler she wanted. She’d understood that about me at one time. Now? Everything was different, everything had changed. I just didn’t know what it meant for either one of us. Later that night in bed, we didn’t use ties or ropes like we’d planned. No, we spooned and fucked slowly, intimately, gradually into the wee hours of the morning. We fell asleep in each other's arms in a pool of sweat. *** “Chandler. Chandler!” Amy poked me. I had enjoyed feeling her skin on me all night, and I was currently confused as to why she was no longer naked in my bed so I could wrap my arms around

her little body. “Babe, what are you doing up? Come back to bed.” “My flight leaves in an hour!” she shouted back to me, frantically throwing every last one of her clothes into her bag. “Oh, fuck.” I jumped out of bed, still groggy from our late night sexscapades. “I’ll start the coffee while you’re getting ready.” “Fuck the coffee!” I nodded, still half-asleep. “No time. Fuck the coffee.” I turned to my dog, who was lying on the floor lazily wagging her tail. “Sorry Jess, I’ll take you out when I get back.” We sped to the airport. I weaved through traffic and probably pissed off a lot of drivers, but we made it in a record fifteen minutes to the Barcelona airport. When we arrived, I put the flashers on and jumped out to grab Amy’s luggage. She hugged me fiercely, like I was the last person on earth. “See you on Skype, soon?” I asked. She hesitated. “Yes.” She paused. “Chandler, I feel like we left things hanging in the balance a little.” “Don’t worry about it,” I soothed. “We don’t have to plan everything in one night. We’ll chat over Skype. Okay?” She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

“Okay.” “Now, go catch your fucking flight. You might have to flirt with some security guard to get moved through fast.” And just like that, I watched the love of my fucking life leave me. She turned, and waved, a sad smile on her face before she completely disappeared from sight. It wasn’t until I realized she wasn’t coming back that it hit me. The numbness, the emptiness, at not waking up to her tomorrow morning. “I love you, Squirt,” I whispered. But she was gone in the flesh, and I could already feel the weight of her absence.

TWENTY-SEVEN AMY

T

he flight home was like déjà vu from five years ago, when I was in college. Except this time, we’d consummated things. Yet boarding the plane and heading back to the cold winter of Chicago after a little over a week with Chandler had felt oddly anticlimactic. I was happy to be back with Andrea and running our small business, but something kept gnawing at me, and I couldn’t quite verbalize what it was. Andrea and I stood close together in our new office as we stared at the whiteboard. With a little seed money from Mr. Yerac, we’d put a down payment on the first month’s rent for our boutique storefront so that we wouldn’t look like serial killers by inviting clients back to our homes. Not that we invited a ton of people back to our office,

but we needed it just in case. “And I think if you can handle the back-end of the business, I can take the in-person meetings for now,” she said, tapping the marker on the ‘Andrea’ column of things. I blankly nodded my head. “Yes, back-end. I can take the back-end.” She capped the marker and set it down on the whiteboard. “Amy, what the H-E double hockey sticks is with you lately?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Seriously? You can’t say the word?” “Oh, whoops. Force of habit. I’ve gotten used to saying that around Tate. But seriously, what’s up with you? Is it him?” Reluctantly, I nodded. “It’s…him, yes. Since I’ve been back we’ve been Skyping. But I just haven’t felt the same. I’m having flashbacks to my old, shitty, long distance relationships. I know it’s only two weeks, but we can’t do this forever, you know? But I’m trying to be patient. I’ve been thinking about going back on my meds.” I sighed. “I thought I could win the battle with anxiety. But I guess it’s just time to throw in the towel.” I plopped on our couch, the one decent furniture item we had splurged on for the office. “So you’ve Skyped every night for the past two weeks. What are you worried about, exactly?” “Sure, we Skype, but where is this going? Are we going to Skype for another four years, and then

I’ll find out he was cheating on me like David?” “Oh God, please. Don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch for you.” Except, they’ve all been bad apples—except for Chandler. “I can’t help it,” I said instead. “He’s great, yeah, and our connection was true. But he’s a lady killer at heart. You should see him in a room with women. They give him the ‘I want your babies’ look like it’s a reflex. He says I have nothing to worry about. But I always worry. Plus, we want different things in life and he won’t budge. I’m not going to spend my entire life trying to change him when it won’t happen.” Andrea sat down on the couch next to me. “Do you trust him?” I bit my lip. “I think I do. That’s the crazy thing. I do trust him but part of me thinks I shouldn’t. He hasn’t even asked to make our relationship Facebook official.” “Really?” she said, dryly. “Facebook official? That’s what you’re worried about?” “Well, he doesn’t have a Facebook, but still.” She shook her head. “You are a little off-kilter right now. I have never, ever seen you this worked up about a boy—not even David and you were really into him. Are you going to make it?” “I don’t know.” I smiled and hung my head in an exaggerated fashion, drawing out the syllables. “I just want him to live here, or me to live in

Barcelona and we can be happy and I can have lots of Chandler babies.” Andrea’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit. I thought you told me that you weren’t sure if he wanted babies.” I leaned my head back. “That might still be true but we never went into that since a lot of other stuff came up first. In any case, I do want babies, and lots of them. Specifically ones that look a lot like him, and me a little. And I feel like I’m taking crazy pills, because all this happened after just one week!” “You know, it is a little crazy.” “So you think I should break up with him?” I was suddenly on edge. “No. Actually, I was going to say to trust your instincts.” I looked over at her. “I can do that.” “So do it,” she ordered. “And stop moping like you don’t have choices.” I smiled, sitting up in my seat and feeling better. “Thanks, Andrea. I needed that.” “Happy to help.” She grinned, standing up and holding out her hand to help me up. “Now let’s get the heck to happy hour so I can have a virgin daiquiri or two,” she said, hand on her baby bump.

**

E VERY TIME I fired up my computer to talk to Chandler, a surge of dopamine went through me and I suddenly felt a sense of calm wash over my body. He was still my go-to drug. My nicotine patch. And a very sexy one at that. A nagging feeling of dread seemed to always permeate through me in spite of this new found happiness. For me, it was greater than anything I’d ever experienced. However, there were days and nights—mostly when I let my thoughts wander too far off shore—where I felt lonely, and wanted to desperately text him in the middle of the night just to have him text back ‘yes, I’m thinking about you.’ We tried our best to make plans in the immediate future but not address the far future. I worried what would happen if one of us asked the other to come live with them, and it turned out that the other didn’t want to come? Our connection would be severed forever. As it was, the Skype sex was hot. Chandler had the uncanny ability to make me wet with just a few words. It was truly an incredible feat. My body was addicted to him. My heart loved him. My mind however—oh, how my mind loved to play tricks on me. One night I was at the office. Andrea had just

left, and I was wrapping up some paperwork that was tedious but instrumental in clearing the red tape out of the way for our PR company to do business. It had been a ridiculously busy day where I’d gotten lost in my work and forgotten to go to lunch. A Skype Mobile call showed up on my phone from Chandler, which perplexed me a little, because we had decided we wouldn’t be Skyping tonight. Either way, I picked it up and answered. “Hola, Señor sexy,” I spoke in a low, sultry voice. There was no immediate answer and there was no picture. Instead, I heard riotous laughter. Some of it was Chandler’s and some of it was a woman’s. My heart sunk through my stomach and all the way down to my feet. “Chandler? Chandler!” I yelled, this time as loud as I possibly could. No answer. As a butt dial, I had two choices, hang up right now, or listen intently to the dialogue and try to piece together what the hell was going on. No way in hell was I ending this call. I turned the volume up on my receiver and put the phone to my ear as best I could. “Muy, muy lindo,” I heard Chandler say. Very very pretty? What the fuck? The female voice spoke. “Sí, lindo como tú. Siempre sabia que pasarará.” My damn Spanish

was still a little rusty, so I had to look up the last part of the phrase on my desktop computer. Phone pressed to my shoulder, I quickly Google translated the part I didn’t understand. Yes, pretty like you. I always knew this would happen. My blood ran cold, and then even colder when I heard glasses clink and a salud get said. There was silence, and a low rumbling of voices in the background. Were they at…a restaurant? A bar? Who the hell was this girl? Suddenly, I heard a baby crying in the background, and then Chandler’s unmistakeable voice. “Ohhh mi hijo!” The baby’s cries stopped as someone—Chandler?—picked it up and patted it on the back. “No pensé que era posible para mi tener un bebé. Es todo gracias a ti, Chandler. Todo por ti.” I translated as fast as I could, writing down anything I couldn’t understand immediately so I wouldn’t forget. I didn’t think it was possible for me to have a baby. It’s all thanks to you, Chandler. Everything because of you. My pulse sped up to ramming speed and my heart tried to break out of my chest. I could not believe my ears. It was like a movie or something. My worst nightmare: Chandler, cheating on me and all the while playing me. I was such a fool, a damn hopeless fool.

Chandler chuckled. “Gracias,” came his reply. I felt faint. Ill. My heart beating so fast in my chest that it made breathing normally difficult. I was past angry or heartbroken. I was just numb from shock, and I felt my knees give out. My eyelids fluttered, and then everything went black.

TWENTY-EIGHT CHANDLER

I

loved the Spanish style of eating out late at night, even with a recently born baby. It was the middle of the week and the hole-in-thewall restaurant was fairly sedate. Doña Maria's son, Mateo, was just three months old and she wanted some air from her baby daddy, so we arranged a meet up after my flight back from my game in France earlier in the evening. The meet up with Doña Maria was unexpected, but appreciated. I’d felt off for the last couple of weeks, partially due to Amy’s absence. I no longer felt like going out every night. Maybe my party lifestyle was coming to an end? Surprisingly, I felt at ease about that. I didn’t feel at ease, however, about the envelope that I’d been carrying around with me since the night Amy had given it to me. I still

wasn’t sure if I wanted to know who my father was. Maybe it could help my psyche to know him, sure. Maybe I’d learn how he had a hard life, wanted to be there for me but couldn’t. Somehow, though, I didn’t see a tender moment happening to us. I had a feeling that it would be rather anticlimactic. I blocked my own issues out of my mind as I sat on the patio with Maria. She somehow attributed the fact that she was able to have a child in her forties to Amy and me. In between news about her newborn boy, I had gushed about my whirlwind week. I’d known all along that would happen, she had said, in so many words. In fact, she went as far as to say that the spark between Amy and I had been evident, even when we were in college and living abroad together. She insisted that she thought we were hooking up constantly, and was actually surprised when I told her that no, we had never hooked up until just a few weeks ago after our chance encounter on the plane. And she said that, she and her boyfriend, now fiancé, had been inspired by Amy and me in a way she couldn't quite put into words. Looking at us, she just knew we were bound for love, and, as she kept joking, marriage. "It was only for a week and a half that we were together. I feel like this conversation may not be

appropriate." I stopped myself short of going into detail about my sex life with Amy. "Por favor, Chandler. Dime los detalles. Quiero detalles. Details." "You want details? Well, the details are, I’m fucking in love. And I’m also fucked. What am I going to do, convince her to uproot everything she’s built in her twenties and move here? Her life is in Chicago. My life is in Barcelona." "So why no do not start life a new, the two of you, together in one place?" Her grammar wasn't perfect, but in spite of that she sounded wise as hell. In fact, maybe her slightly improper grammar made her sound smarter, like a Spanish Yoda of sorts. Was it really that simple? I stared at Maria’s son, who stared right back at me with a mischievous look in his eyes. Kids. A family. Marriage. Being a husband. A father…all things I’d sworn off without even a second thought. My decision had been made as a teenager but they’d been my motto for over a decade. Sitting here, I was thinking that I was running away for reasons I wasn’t even sure of anymore. I had told Amy we had to stop running or we’d repeat ourselves. And we had, but this time, knowingly. And I knew that was mostly on me. Amy wasn’t going to put herself out there if she already sensed I wouldn’t. When Mateo gurgled-giggled, I snapped out of

it, and found Maria watching me just like she always has. "I just…I don’t know,” I said, helplessly. “I have no friends in Chicago. I’m a country boy everywhere but in Barcelona." "You make friends easily," she said, knowingly. “Excuses.” I grinned, agreeing. "Good point, on both accounts. But I would have to do something else besides basketball. And I like basketball." "No understand. United States not play basketball?" I hedged. "Well, yes, we do. But I'm not good enough to play in that league." "Not good enough?" she repeated. Then, rocking her baby, she asked me a question that sent me reeling: "Why not good enough?" I laughed awkwardly, thinking back to the time when Amy had similarly tried to convince me I was good enough to play in the U.S. Some people just didn’t understand how tough it was to even be a bench warmer in the NBA. There were millions of kids who grew up with the dream, when in reality, there were only thirty teams times twelve players on each of those teams. And only six of those players really got any playing time. So the odds of me making it were not good. I spared Doña Maria the complicated math. "Trust me, I'm better off here," I summarized. "Why you not at least try? Que vas a perder?

What will you lose, mi hijo?" I sipped my drink and nodded. My gaze drifted off into the street. What did I have to lose by putting a few feelers out to the NBA? Nothing, really. “Yo no pensé que iba a tener un hijo a los cuarenta. Pero ahora sí. Y es mi vida.” “And I’m so glad you did have a son, Maria,” I said, watching the boy stare at me. “And he’s a beautiful boy.” She smiled warmly as she bounced the baby boy on her knee. For almost midnight, the boy was pretty damn playful. A Spanish night owl in the making. “Anda, Chandler. You are distressed. Maybe you and Amy will be together, maybe not. But you must try.” Fuck. Yes. I must try. Maybe it wouldn’t work out. Just like maybe the NBA wouldn’t work. But if I didn’t at least give it a fair shot, I’d be kicking myself forever. “Dammit Doña Maria, you and Le Ral with your love advice—how did you get to be so wise?” *** When I got home that night, I did something I hadn’t done in ages: I Googled the standings for the NBA and did a little research. Normally, I didn’t give two shits about professional basketball in the United States because I was too busy doing my own

damn thing. February was the month that teams who were trying to make a run at the playoffs typically looked for last second additions to their roster. Generally, there were two types of players they looked to add: big men and three point shooters. "Big" in the NBA meant seven feet or taller, so at 6’3” I was basically a midget by professional basketball standards. Everyone always laughed when I told them this. I would always remind them that even Steph Curry was only 6’4”. So naturally, I fell into the bucket of three-point shooters. I knew I wouldn't get a starting spot right away, but I might come in late in the game and nail a key shot or two. The point was that I'd have the opportunity to work my way into the lineup for a team that might want me. If I kept improving, I’d get my shot, that much I knew. Truthfully, the only reason I was even giving myself a chance at being in the NBA was my recent hot shooting streak, which had only begun since Amy arrived. Once it had continued after she left, it became less of a streak and instead just the way I played every day. All of the players and coaches had noticed my new and improved focus on the court. Maybe part of it was due to the fact that I had cut back on the drinking and the partying and was putting in extra time in the gym; instead, I was getting at least five hundred extra shots a day in.

My logic was strange but made sense to me: what was the point of partying if Amy wasn’t there? I couldn’t have fun anymore unless I was with her, or going home to talk to her on Skype, which was getting old. I missed her presence, doing stuff with her, doing everything with her. I think even Jessica was sad when Amy didn’t come back with me the day she’d left. Only Le Ral really knew the truth about what to attribute it to, but since we had taken down Serbia's squad of stars—most of them had NBA interest— now we were the favorites to win the EuroBasket. And I was the reason. According to Bleacher Report, there were a few teams in the NBA who desperately were in need of a late season sharp shooter who could hit key shots late in games. I noted the teams, and then fired off an email to a college buddy of mine who was an intern for an agency. I included links to a couple of my highlight reels and press releases from recent games. Hopeful those would state my case to perhaps at least get a team to look at me, or maybe fly me in for a tryout. I had no agent so I had to do all the legwork myself. When I pressed ‘send’, I felt something I hadn't in quite some time: anxiety over basketball. For the last four years, I'd stayed in my comfort zone in a lot of ways. I'd played in the league that was easiest for me, where I’d be a big deal. I'd run away from

my family, who I never really got along with fully. And last but not least, I'd dated in my comfort zone. I stuck to superficial relationships that were a mile long and an inch deep. One-night stands and tennight stands that I knew weren’t going anywhere. On the surface, I probably looked like I had everything going for me. But the truth was, for the past year, I’d had a nagging feeling that something was missing. That I wasn’t fulfilling my potential. Things that used to seem fun—staying up all night drinking, beating an opponent by fifty points— weren’t fun anymore. Amy reentering my life had made that even more obvious. My thoughts on family and the long-term future still scared me but Amy was the one woman that I could see that life with and it could be a great life. Slowly, through our Skype calls, I’d finally started working out my issues with my family, at my disconnection from them and had even thought about rebuilding those relationships, aside from my birth father, who I still didn’t care to look up. The envelope she’d gotten me on him remained on my kitchen counter, where I’d tossed it after our final dinner. Still, Amy’s encouragement and her telling me about her relationships with her own family made me think that I hadn’t tried hard enough. That I’d taken the easy route instead of accepting that even a little effort could go a long way. I’d also never tried to understand my mom and the choices

she’d made. I guess a part of me had taken up psychology as my major for that reason on top of learning how to get into my opponent’s head. I was seeing my life in ways I’d never ever thought of. Since Amy’s departure, there was this strange void wherever I went. My apartment felt so empty and just…not a home. Amy had made it feel homey with her cooking, just sitting with me at breakfast or watching TV with me. My life was so empty, had been for years. All I’d had that meant a damn thing to me was basketball. That wasn’t enough. Not anymore. I could choose to live the old life and pretend I didn’t feel hollow and lonely or I could do something about it. I took a deep breath, not sure why I felt suddenly stressed. Amy and I hadn't planned to Skype tonight, but I still wanted to talk to her. I texted her to see if she was around, and then logged into my Skype account. There was no answer from my text, but to my surprise her name popped up when I logged in, as she was logged onto her account. I smiled as I pressed call, and I realized why I’d felt stressed. It had been two days since I’d talked with her. Her schedule had been packed yesterday, then with my game today in France, I thought I might be at the airport or flying, but we managed to catch an early flight back. The call was picked up, but confusion ran

through me when someone else answered. When the video came into focus, I recognized the person as Amy’s friend who I had met on Skype a few weeks ago. “Uh, hello there,” I said, only able to offer a confused smile. “Andrea?” “Yes, Chandler.” She spoke my name like she was spitting venom. “Oh. Well…good to see you again. Where is Amy?” She shook her head. “Wow. You are really something, aren’t you? You’ve got some fucking nerve. You want to know where I am? I’ll tell you. I’m at Illinois Masonic Hospital in Chicago with Amy. I was trying to figure out what she was last doing on her computer when she passed out cold in the office tonight.” My adrenaline skyrocketed. “Amy passed out?! Is she okay?!” “Yes, I found her in the office when I came by to pick up a few documents I needed. And thank God I did, because she hit her head as she went to the ground. And wouldn’t you know the only words I could get out of her in her weakened state?” I didn’t like where this was going. “What?” “Chandler. Cheater.” My heart jumped out of my throat and I swallowed, trying to tamp it back town. “Okay. I don’t get it. I’m honestly not quite understanding

why she would say that.” “You know, you really are dense, aren’t you?” A man took the computer from Andrea and my heart rate spiked again when I realized who it was. “Jake Napleton?” His face was as cold as ice. “Listen buddy, I don’t know what the fuck you did to this girl. But Andrea called me, crying when she found her in the office. She thought Amy might be dead! Luckily we have the best doctors, and it turns out she probably just had low blood sugar mixed with the fact that she hasn’t been taking her anxiety medications lately, and her chemistry was off. But you, buddy, wow. You are really a piece of work. One Google search and the jig was up.” I took deep breaths, trying to stay calm. I respected a fellow athlete, but I wasn’t about to let him walk all over me, either. I kept calm, reminding myself that his celebrity status didn’t matter. This was Amy’s best friend’s fiancé, and I couldn’t flip out. “I’m not a big internet guy, but go ahead.” “Ha! Not a big internet guy,” he said, getting angrier by the second. He pulled out his phone and scrolled on it. “Well, we were able to find a few Spanish news sites that gave us the rundown. Thank god for Google Page translate. Let’s see…here’s a gem.” He turned his phone towards me for a few seconds and I saw a picture of myself at La Vaca

que Fuma. Amy was next to me but her back was turned. I had no clue anyone had even taken a picture, let alone eavesdropping on my conversations with Amy. Jake turned it back and read off it. “Article in the sports section of Spanish Slam Dunk: Who is the biggest ladies man on the team? Oh that’s easy. Chandler Spiros. Speaks Spanish like a native, looks like a Greek God, and basically has to fight them off with a stick. Last night, he was seen with a total hottie, who he called ‘Squirt’.” Jake stopped and glared at me. “Well, I think I’ll let you figure out the rest. They show a bunch of other pictures of you with a lot of other women—and I thought my party pictures were over the top.” “Listen buddy, Squirt is the name I call Amy,” I said, panicking a little. “And that’s Amy in the shot! That wasn’t even a month ago!” He arched an eyebrow. “What kind of nickname is ‘Squirt’ anyway?” He shook his head. “She’s never told us that story, if it’s even true.” I gritted my teeth. “It’s just between us.” “Likely story, but it’s clear you can’t be trusted.” Jake looked off. “Drea, you know anything about this story about a nickname Chandler gave her?” “Never told me,” Andrea said, disdain evident in her voice. “Listen, I don’t care what that, or any article

says about me! That Spanish Slam Dunk?! That’s basically the equivalent of a TMZ in America. It’s a tabloid! They’ll print anything.” “Maybe, but I found several other sites saying the same thing. All I had to do was search ‘Chandler Spiros’. There are like a dozen stories about you, man. They call you Casanova.” I minimized the two of them, and actually cringed as I typed in my own name. I froze as I read the top three suggestions in Google. Suggestion number one: Casanova. Suggestion two: Womanizer Suggestion three: Barcelona Basketball “This is…come on!” I exclaimed. I gave Jake a long look. Out of anyone, he’d understand. “Jake, throw me a bone! You know what it’s like to be played with by the media, don’t you? So they’ve run a few ‘ladies man’ stories—k” “All I know is that my fiancé’s best friend in the world could have died today if we hadn’t found her there, and here you are making excuses about what appears to be a shit-ton of stories about how you are a lady killer. I’m not asking, I’m telling you, stay the fuck away from Amy and do not cause her any more pain. Got it, buddy?” My blood boiled and I clenched my fists. So the guy wanted a challenge? He had no fucking clue who he was dealing with. My words cut like nails. “With due respect,

Jake. Andrea. I appreciate the fact that you are looking out for your friend. But you are taking this a little too far. Don’t you think we should talk about this when she wakes up? Find out what the fuck happened?” I am in love with her, I wanted to scream but at this point, I knew that wouldn’t go over well. “The last thing I would do is cheat on the one person that I want to be with. Will you give me a chance?” “I don’t know man,” Jake said, frowning and then he looked off then looked back at me. “Maybe. Listen, we have to go. Nurse is here.” With that, he shut the laptop and the signal went dead. I ground my teeth and stared at the ended Skype call. I wanted to blame Jake fucking Napleton for being a hardass. I wanted to blame Andrea. And Amy? Where the hell did she get the idea that I was cheating on her? But, in the end, I couldn’t blame any of them. Past behavior was the best indicator of future behavior. I’d always judged people not by their words but by their actions. I’d honestly never thought about my reputation or that the media would actually take an interest in me. Athletes in Europe didn’t get the kind of celebrity attention and press that athletes in the States received so I’d never really had to protect myself that vigilantly. Or so I’d thought. And I could plead with my words all

I wanted, but my actions said something else entirely: that I was not a one-girl kind of guy. My rage built until I couldn’t take it. I closed my laptop in a fury and slammed it against the wall, breaking into the drywall. “Fuuuuuuuck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I wanted to fuck somebody up. I wanted to punch a wall. I wanted to get back on the court and terrorize my opponent. I took a deep breath. Yelling wouldn’t do any good. I grabbed my jacket, packed a light bag, texted a quick note to Maria asking her to take care of Jess, and headed to the airport to catch the next flight to Chicago. Before I left, I stuffed the envelope Amy had given me in my coat. Something told me I might need it.

TWENTY-NINE CHANDLER

W

hen my flight touched town to O’Hare airport the next day, I realized a few things. One, last minute flights are pricey as hell. Two, I actually missed having the majority of people around me speaking in my native English language. And three, I had absolutely no idea where Amy lived aside from the fact that she was hopefully still at Illinois Masonic Hospital, a place I’d had to Google. She hadn't answered any of my texts or calls in the past day since I'd booked my flight. I couldn't be sure if this was a result of her being in the hospital, or maybe she was seeing my messages and constantly ignoring them. I did not like either option. I still had the envelope Amy had given me

inside my coat pocket. I’d been carrying it around with me for the last week, but I hadn’t felt the need to open it. Amy thought it would be good for me to know my father, but I wasn’t so sure. Once I had picked up my modest black suitcase from the baggage claim, I walked straight outside and hailed the nearest cab. The man rolled down the window. "How fast can you get me to Illinois Masonic Hospital, and how much is it?" He punched it in on his GPS. "Says forty five minutes. It's a sixty dollar flat fee." "I've got a hundred for you if we make it there under a half hour." His eyes widened a little. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get the fuck in, buddy." As promised, we pulled up in front of Illinois Masonic, which was on the north side of Chicago, in twenty-five minutes. I handed over the hundreddollar bill, said my thanks and grabbed my suitcase. I ran into the front desk, trying to mask my nervousness. The fifty-something guy behind the counter seemed indifferent to me as he sat in front of his computer screen. “Hello sir.” “Hello,” he dryly replied without looking up. “I’m here to visit someone. Do you happen to have her room number for Amy Kershaw?”

It seemed like it took everything he had to move his eyes to look up at me. “You a relative?” “Yes,” I lied. He examined my face as if he was considering the truthfulness of what I’d said to him. “What’s your relation?” Shit. “Fiancé,” I blurted out. He assessed my panicky face and then nodded. “Okay,” he said, typing on his keyboard for a second. “Room two-twenty eight.” I thanked him and walked briskly to the elevator, past a few nurses carting people around. Finally I arrived at room two-twenty eight. The door to the room was closed. I set my suitcase by the door and knocked gently a couple of times. There was no answer, so I decided to open it, but then the door opened and I saw a girl. “Hi,” I said, examining her face. She stepped outside of the door and shut it behind her, her expression not at all welcoming. “You must be Andrea.” “Good eye. You’re Chandler.” “That’s me. I came here to see Amy.” She put her hands on her hips. Her eyes were kind, but her figure was tall and a little imposing. “Let me get this straight. You came all the way from Barcelona to see Amy?” “That’s right. Are you going to let me in?” Her expression was soft and feminine but stern

at the same time. She didn’t move and kept glaring at me. “Listen, Amy mentioned that you were a great friend of hers. And I don’t know what’s happened to her exactly. But if you could just let me in to talk to her, I can explain things and whatever it is—we can work it out.” She crossed her arms, still standing between me and the door. “Look, I don’t know you. I don’t know the full history between you and Amy. But what I do know is that she ended up in the hospital because of something you did,” she said, her voice hard. “She’s fallen into another depressed state, and she’s being evaluated for a couple of days. The doctors say she shouldn’t take visitors aside from close friends and family.” Despite her soft and pretty appearance, this girl knew how to play hardball. “Andrea, please. I know this might not look great from your viewpoint. But you have no idea what’s going on between Amy and me. I love her.” Fuck, did I just say that? Why couldn’t I say that to Amy? “And I need to see her and figure out why she thinks I cheated on her. I would never do that. Just wouldn’t. Not to her.” “If I let you in, she’s going to get all riled up,” she said, still being a hardass. “Her parents and brother just left ten minutes ago and got her all calmed down—she’s finally resting. You’re going to

upset her all over again.” “Please,” I said, and there was a hint of pleading in my voice, which was foreign to me. “I’m begging you to let me see her. Please. Just one minute.” Maybe she heard the desperation in my voice, because she finally opened the door and let me through. Amy was hooked up to an I.V., and certainly looked weaker than she had in Barcelona. “Squirt! What happened?” I ran to her side and took her hand in mine. “Chandler,” she smiled softly for a moment, then yanked her hand away. “Help me understand what’s going on.” I furrowed my brow. “You butt dialed me yesterday night. I heard everything. I know about your secret hijo, and your relationship with another woman. It’s over. No more lies, Chandler.” My heart suddenly kicked into high gear. I racked my brain. What the fuck could she be talking about? “A butt dial? Let’s see. Last night… last night I was with…Doña Maria! She’s had a baby! Mateo. I was with her. She was probably talking about her son! Maybe that’s what you heard?” “I told you he’d say something like that,” Andrea said over my shoulder.

I turned to look at Andrea, angry. “Oh, you’re the truth and lies expert now?” I asked, sarcastically. “Unfortunately, I am. Being with a sociopath ex-boyfriend for a year will do that to you.” My body stiffened and I tried not to get distracted from the task at hand, which was regaining Amy’s trust. “Amy, you’ve got to believe me. I came all the way here from goddamn Europe to clear up this misunderstanding. I’m missing basketball practice and games this week.” All four eyes of the women were on me, searing into me. “We had a fun week and a half, Chandler,” Amy finally said, breaking the silence. “I really want to believe you. But I’ve been hurt by this sort of thing so many times…I’m just tired of being betrayed.” I stopped breathing momentarily at that ugly word. Betrayed. “It’s over, Chandler,” she said, in that quiet way I’d learned was her deciding something. For good. She was stubborn enough to live by that decision, too. Her expression was set, resolute and she was in no mood to hear me out. I could beg and promise her the moon and she’d just look right through me like I wasn’t even there. “So that’s it?” I asked, the wind knocked out of me. “You don’t want to see me any more? The

future I’ve made for us in my head, was I just a fucking idiot to think we could be anything more than amigovios?” “Please,” she said, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Just go.” A cocktail of helplessness, anger, and confusion welled up inside me. I could keep pleading my case, but this seemed like a battle I wouldn’t win. I looked at both of the women, nodded in acceptance of their verdict, and walked out of the room. *** Fuck this, I thought. I needed a better plan. Let Amy realize I wasn’t going anywhere and come back later. But with a better plan, better words, something that would convince her to give me another chance. All the ideas I’d come up with, including all the fantasies of her just being happy to see me, went out the door. I checked into a hotel nearby and dropped off my suitcase. Restless, I immediately left, needing to clear my head. That afternoon, I wandered through the streets of Chicago for hours. The early February weather was well below freezing, and my jacket was light, but I sadistically enjoyed the cold blowing through me. The more physical pain I felt, the better. It would help take my mind off my depressive mental state, which was getting worse by the minute.

On one hand, this didn’t make too much sense. She thought I had a secret son? What on earth was Amy talking about? She surely heard the conversation with Doña Maria and took it out of context. I tried to put myself in her shoes. If she felt I was lying, she had a right to be pissed off and cut me out. She made no secret of her trust issues with her lying boyfriends through the years. Though I hadn’t ever cheated on a girl, I’d been an asshole to many, and it seemed almost like poetic justice that my years of womanizing would come back and get me in trouble with the one girl I really wanted a deeper relationship with. She was the girl I loved, although I hadn’t been able to totally verbalize it to her. The winter sun was setting and the temperature dropping as I saw a plain, honest sign poking out on the sidewalk that said Charlie’s Bar. It was black with white letters, and the sign called out to me. It seemed like just the place for what I needed right now: a drink. Or maybe five. I opened the door and was greeted with a gush of warm air. The place was mostly empty inside except for a group of four playing darts, and a blonde woman sitting at the far end of the bar in a dark red dress. I sidled up on the opposite end of the bar, and a white bearded man with glasses and kind eyes approached me.

“What’ll ya have, son?” “Whiskey neat. Make it a double if you can.” The man turned and grabbed a bottle of Maker’s Mark from behind the bar and put it into a glass. “Tough day,” he said, speaking in a deep voice, saying it more as half a question, half a statement. I nodded as he set the drink in front of me and took my twenty-dollar bill. “Women,” I said gruffly as I took a pull of the drink. It burned all the way down. “Well, to be exact, a woman.” “Usually that’s the case.” The woman at the end of the bar signaled to the bartender, taking his attention away from me. He moseyed down and got her a drink, leaving me alone with my thoughts for the moment. I stared at myself in the mirror behind the bar. I looked fucking miserable, my hair messy, and dark circles under my eyes. I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. I took out the envelope Amy had given me. She thought confronting my father and my past would help me in some way. Despite all the ways she’d helped me open up, this was the one avenue I’d been hesitant to fully explore. I stared at the envelope while I took another swig of whiskey, enjoying the sting of the liquid on my throat. I felt so low right now. How bad could it be?

I worked my finger into it and ripped it open. Inside were just a few pages of articles she’d found on the internet, but it was enough to send a chill through my body. In one, my mom, age eighteen, with an older man at her high school prom. The guy looked shockingly like me. Holy mother fucking shit. I finished off my double and my chest pounded. “Another?” the bartender asked. I hadn’t even heard him creep up. I was in a total fog. “Yes,” I croaked, setting the papers down. He filled my glass up halfway, then paused. “Dear fucking God. What the hell are you doing with that picture?” he asked, shock on his face. He twisted his neck a little to see the high school photo I was looking at. I spun the photo around for him. “My mom and her prom date, circa nineteen ninety-one,” I said. I’d never once looked at her high school pictures. Because we’d never been that close, I’d never invested in learning her past—my past. And all right there, if I’d just looked. “She was eighteen, god knows how old the guy was.” The bartender stroked his beard and finished my pour. “He’s twenty-three.” I stared at him. “How the hell do you know that?” I asked. “And why are you so curious?” My heart was beating a mile a minute with this strange, bearded man holding my dad’s photo. It made no sense. He flashed his eyes back up my way.

“Let me ask you this, just to make sure…” He jabbed a finger at the picture, at Jake Whitehead’s face. “Does he live in Murphysboro?” I shook my head at him, confused. “I’ve never met him, but he might be my father.” When I said that, the man’s already pale-ish face went stark white. He pursed his lips, staring at me then the picture. “I know the guy. Know him all too well, actually.” A chill ran through me. “W-what…? H-how?” I stuttered. I hadn’t had a stiff drink in a while but I was wondering if the whiskey was affecting me already. Had I just heard all that correctly? “You said that young woman in the picture is your mother?” I nodded, slowly, still dazed. He sighed, shaking his head, as though he wasn’t sure what to say but I needed to know what he knew. I looked at the other names in the newspaper. “Jack Whitehead is his name.” I pulled out the other piece of paper. I had no idea how Amy had gotten all this information but it was mind-blowing. “Looks like he’s got a nice long rap sheet, too. Seems like he was a real piece of work. Left my mom all alone after she had me. And I already know he has a bunch kids all over, too.” The old man nodded. “Yep, sounds like Jack all right,” he said, grimly.

I blew out a whoosh of air. “Excuse me?” “Jack Whitehead,” he said, soberly and another chill crawled down my spine that this random guy in a bar knew my biological father. “From Southern Illinois. I’ve known the guy for a long time.” “Hang on,” I said, and took out my phone. “Mr…” “Charlie.” His smile was warm. “Just Charlie is fine.” “And you really know him?” I asked, still in disbelief. He nodded. “Unfortunately. Moves around a lot to avoid paying child support. Hell, half the kids he’s fathered, he’s denied paternity to but I see him in you, clear as day.” That wasn’t at all comforting. No wonder when my mom looked at me, she’d pause a little. I wondered how torturous that had to have been for her and suddenly, I was beginning to understand her, and our fucked up mother-son relationship. I thought about dialing her just then. I’d started Skyping her, and had even chatted with Bob, a little more regularly in the past few weeks, but we still weren’t on great terms. I was going to try though, I owed her that. However, asking about my dad was still a hard topic for her and one she wasn’t ready to explore with me quite yet. The way she’d talked about my dad, you’d think he was a serial killer. Hell, maybe he was.

I looked back at the picture and thought, how strange it was, a guy his age with a high schooler, barely legal. Jesus. I could only imagine the kind of life my bio-dad could have had at that age, just traveling around and making it his job to woo women before moving on, like a job? Christ, did the guy even know I existed? The fact that Charlie knew Jack Whitehead was such a strange coincidence, it seemed to me that I had to find out more. “You’ve any idea where he could be?” I asked, not hoping for much. I mean, it couldn’t possibly be that simple, so easy to locate him after all these years of wondering about him. I wondered if my mom had known but it was hard to say. I couldn’t blame her from not telling me much about him if she had known more than she’d let on, especially growing up. With a rap sheet like his, even if it was all mostly petty crimes, it wasn’t something to be remotely proud of, not something you’d want to pass onto your child, that’s for sure. “He always touches back at Murphysboro, has property there,” Charlie was saying. “But like I said, the man runs away as fast as he can if someone’s trying to find him. Has an instinct for it, I’d wager.” I was sounding more and more like father then I liked. Up until a few days ago, I’d been a runner. Not anymore. “However…I can make a couple calls, see if

anyone in town’s seen him since the last time,” Charlie offered. My heart beat a little faster, the alcohol buzz making it feel like it’d burst right out of me. “And, ah…how long ago was that?” I asked, anxious. “A couple years.” Damn. It was a definitely long shot but it was all I had. “Make the call, please?” I asked, urgently. Charlie gave a nod, and moved away. If this was really going to happen, I needed someone to go with me. And I knew exactly who. I dialed Amy’s number. Pick up. Pick up. For the love of God. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. I called again. After two rings, I heard Amy’s voice. “What, Chandler?” Even hearing Amy pissed off made me smile. There wasn’t time for superfluous details. “The envelope you gave me at our last dinner. You remember it?” I heard a breath go out of her. “Yes. Of course.” “I opened it.” “Just now?” “Yes.” I exhaled, overwhelmed by it all. The past 24-hours had been insane. “Wow, Jack Whitehead and I have a hell of a resemblance, wouldn’t you say?” “Fuck, Chandler,” she whispered. “I didn’t

mean to force that on you. I thought you’d thrown that away. I thought…” “It’s fine,” I stated firmly. “It’s good what you did. But now, regardless of our status, I need you to do something for me.” She paused. I thought I could hear her whispergrumbling. “What do you want?” “It’s sort of a strange coincidence, but I might be able to get his supposed address. I want you to come with me to visit him—he’s hopefully in Southern Illinois. I need you there to help me process all this. We can drive down to his place.” And maybe you’ll explain what the hell happened, I added to myself. A long sigh. “I don’t know Chandler…” “Dammit, Squirt,” I growled. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t give me that envelope. And now you’re just going to leave me hanging? We had a pact, remember? And that pact had an underlying rule that friends are there for each other, no matter what.” I was totally pulling this out of my ass but she was quiet, just her breathing through the speaker and hopefully hearing me out. I waited, and waited. “Amy—” “I get out of the hospital tomorrow,” she blurted out at the same time. “Where does he live?” “Hold on…” I said, as Charlie came back. “Not sure if he’ll be there, to be honest,” the

old man said, apologetically. “A neighbor saw him a few months back but nothing since then.” He had a little black address book. He had taken it out and scribbled the address onto the back of an old receipt. “But here’s his address, in case…” “Thanks,” I mouthed to him and then got back on with Amy. The information wasn’t much but it was more than what I had. “Amy? He lives at 4141 West Lincoln in Murphysboro.” “Southern Illinois? That’s like a four or five hour drive!” “I’ll drive. If you’re up for it, how about Saturday?” I said quickly. She hesitated. “I don’t know…” “Amy, please? I need you…with me on this,” I said, swallowing hard. I was terrified she’d say no. “You’re the only person that will understand what this trip means to me. And I can’t do it alone.” She sighed. “Damn you, Chandler. Fine. I’ll go with you,” she said, for a second, her voice was soft but then it’s like she remembered she was still pissed at me. “I’ll do this for you. As a friend. And then it’s goodbye.” My heart dropped. Her words cut through me like knives. I had to try to defend myself. “And you know what you heard was just me talking to Maria, right? Do you believe me? I’ll have Maria call you herself.” She finally relented. “Look, I do believe you,

Chandler. But it doesn’t even matter. I’ve been thinking about everything a lot today. And we had a spectacular week and a half. My God, you’re amazing in a lot of ways and I love—” She stopped herself abruptly. “Loved the time we’ve spent together. And I’m sure you’ll make some girl happy one day. But it won’t be me. You’re basically my kryptonite. The fact that you have girls coming up to you wherever you go… I can’t go through life constantly insecure like I am with you. And, we want different things, remember? And I’m not going to change you because you’d just end up hating me for it, in the end. You shouldn’t change for anyone and some other girl will get that about you. I just…can’t. I won’t.” I held the phone tight. I wanted to slam it against the floor. Or maybe crumble it in my hand. Smash it. I wanted to smash everything in my sight. But I realized something. This was just the world finally throwing me back a dose of my own medicine. Even if I’d seen my relationships with past women as superficial and not going anywhere, how many of them had fallen in love with me? How many hearts had I broken? “All right,” I croaked. “I’ll rent a car and pick you up from your place on Saturday morning, and we’ll head down.” “See you then.” The call ended. I finished my drink and slammed it on the bar. I

fumed for a good ten minutes and then I burned myself out. How could I have fucked things up with Amy so badly? “Hey Charlie,” I said, waving him over. I waited until he’d walked over before speaking again. “You said you know him well?” “Unfortunately,” Charlie said again, but somewhat good-naturedly. “Got any stories you want to share?” I asked, deciding I needed a crash course in all things Jack Whitehead before I met the guy. If the guy would even be there. Even if he wasn’t, I knew his haunting grounds and I could always try again—if I cared to, that is. Charlie’s eyes lit up. There’s nothing like an old man who’s lived the world, seen some shit, and made it through. “Do I ever. How much time you got?” I looked down at my phone. It was barely 6 p.m. I had two days in Chicago before Saturday, and basically no one to spend it with. I shrugged. “I got all night, old man.” He smiled. “Let me get this dear lady over there another drink and I’ll think of where to start off.” We chatted into the wee hours of the night.

THIRTY AMY

P

art of me felt like a drama queen, but the other part felt justified. I wanted to forgive him, or even better, believe Chandler’s story. But the fact was I just couldn’t. Cheating boyfriends were something I’d had to live with my whole life, and now I heard him, the one man I thought I could trust, talking about his fucking son? Maybe I was reading too much into it. The night before I was leaving with Chandler to go visit his dad, I called my parents and talked around the topic with Mom first. I just wanted to hear their voice even though they’d just left last night and were back in Joliet. After a while, she passed me to my dad, who immediately knew something was off. “Your head doesn’t hurt any more?” he asked.

“I feel fine. Really.” “Amy, I love you,” he said, in his dad voice. “But you hit your head on a damn desk! That has me really worried, I’m not going to lie to you.” “It’s fine, Dad. I’m fine,” I repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I’ve just been working a lot this week and not eating properly.” I heard him take a deep breath and exhale. “I don’t want to have to pull the ‘if something is bothering you, you can talk to me about it’ schtick. But I will if I have to.” “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I cracked a slight smile. “But Dad, you don’t have to worry about me. Honestly. I just wanted to call and say hi, and that I appreciate you and Mom. I haven’t been doing that enough lately.” He paused for a long few beats. “Okay.” My smile broadened. I knew he was holding back, resisting digging for more information about what was upsetting me. My dad knew me like no one else in my life did. I felt a little better after our conversation and was able to force down some chicken soup that night while I watched a movie. The fact was, butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I thought about Chandler picking me up the next day. I both longed to see him and wished I would never see him again. Once he came back into my orbit, he would pull me in like a force of nature.

Telling him off in the hospital, though necessary, was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Plus, I felt responsible for having unleashed Pandora’s box on him. What was I even thinking that I thought it was a good idea for me to push him to meet his biological dad? Who was I to make that decision for him? I swallowed down another bit of broth. The heat of the chicken soup felt good on my throat. I checked my phone, wishing he’d text me. The truth was that I missed living in the same space as Chandler, as short lived as our little adventure had been. My phone dinged and I rushed to check it. It was Andrea, asking if I wanted to come by and watch a movie. With spring training for Jake starting, she’d been very busy lately trying to nab some new clients for us while I supported the backend of the business in the office. I told her thanks but no thanks that I was going to bed soon so I could be rested for a trip tomorrow. I didn’t tell her who it was with. I still wasn’t taking my meds, even though I’d told everyone I was. I knew that was wrong of me but even though I was mad at Chandler, just knowing he was in the same city as me had buoyed me. That he’d dropped everything and flown in to see me as soon as he’d heard…it meant a lot to me. It still wasn’t enough. I’d do this one thing with him, for him, and wish him well. It was for the best,

I knew that and he’d realize it too. But I went to sleep, hoping I wouldn’t be completely shattered and destroyed once he left me again—but this time, for good.

THE NEXT MORNING , I stood outside in the freezing cold while I waited for Chandler to swing by. I was enjoying the relative quiet of the early hour and the warmth of the paper coffee cup in my hand when I heard a loud, loud buzz approaching. A huge F-series pickup truck that looked like it was plucked straight from the country and dropped in Gold Coast Chicago appeared in front of my block. The window rolled down and I saw Chandler. He wore only a white T-shirt even though it was well below freezing. “Get in,” he grumbled in a low voice, his breath visible in the cold air. I obeyed, draining my cup of coffee then having to jump up a step to enter. “Where the hell did you get this monstrosity?” I asked, setting the empty cup in a holder. He laughed. “I rented. Figured since we were going out to the country I’d get a truck like the old one I used to have in high school.” He shrugged. The faintest hint of a smile nipped at his mouth.

“Good to see you.” “Good to see you too.” We took off, driving through light traffic in the early morning hours of Saturday. I felt more nervous than I’d ever felt around him, for some reason. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and chewed on a toothpick as he looked straight ahead, focused on the road. His face was well stubbled. I wondered what he’d been up to for the last few days since he called me, but I didn’t want to ask. “Thanks for coming with me,” he said, after we’d been driving in silence for some time. “You didn’t have to.” “I did have to.” I explained to him that I felt this whole path he was on was my fault, in a way. He didn’t disagree. “It was going to happen sooner or later,” he went on. “The crazy thing is, I think you’re right. For a man to be fully present in the moment, he’s got to have explored all aspects of himself, all vulnerabilities. Who the fuck knows what Jack Whitehead is up to in fucking Murphysboro, Illinois.” “Murphysboro,” I repeated, pulling up the town on my phone. “Wow. It’s way down there. Did you let him know you were coming?” “Actually, I don’t know for certain if he’ll be there.” His jaw tensed. I saw the toothpick snap in his mouth. “He sort of…comes and goes.”

I hated the idea that his dad wouldn’t be there when Chandler was putting forth so much effort but from what I knew already, a man like Jake Whitehead wouldn’t give a shit, and that made me mad a little. For Chandler’s sake. “Did you let your mom know you were coming here?” I asked, keeping my voice mild. His jaw tightened. “Yes.” I waited. “And?” “Said to drive safe.” “That’s it?” I asked, a little incredulous. “Pretty much. She did confirm he was my father, but didn’t say too much aside from that. Sounds like she’s blocked him out of her life even more than I have.” The ride to Murphysboro was far, but Chandler drove like a maniac. The roads were clear of ice but the fields were covered with a thick layer of snow. Traffic at this hour was busy but not congested. We didn’t talk much, just listened to country music on low. After about four hours of driving, we got off the highway and pulled past the city limits sign, and into the town. I typed in the address and helped navigate him. It was a typical small to midsize town. It had a town Centre, a fire department, a bar, and a courthouse. We pulled past a river, and empty, frozen cornfields on both sides of us that went on for miles. Soon, we came across an old, dilapidated

one-story house that sat fifty feet back from the road. A single, huge tree grew to the left of the driveway. A long rope dangled from the tree. The tire, however, had been detached. Though leafless in the winter, it was massive. “This is it, I guess,” Chandler remarked when we got out of the truck and stood side by side in the driveway. He just stood there, in the cold, staring. He’d grabbed a jacket from the back seat of the truck, but didn’t even put it on in the freezing weather. I’d never seen him this off. I took a glove off and wrapped it around his bicep. “Hey. You okay?” After a long pause, he looked at me. “Yeah.” He blinked a few times and then reopened his eyes. “Fuck. I feel weird.” “You still want to go in?” He nodded. I let Chandler lead the way. He knocked on the door a few times, loudly, but no one answered. He knocked a few more times but still, no one came. I went to a dirty, small front window and tried to peer in. It was dark but what I could see was a hovel. It saddened me, the state of this man’s house. I didn’t want to feel sorry for a man like Jack Whitehead, but it was clear this man was as alone as this house was alone in the middle of nowhere. “Guess no one’s home,” Chandler said, his

expression blank as he scanned around us. “Sorry for the bother.” I walked back to him and gave him a hug, which he immediately returned, fiercely. “Let’s wait a bit?” I suggested. “Maybe he’s…getting groceries?” He gave a short bark of laughter and let me go but kept his arm around me. I burrowed in deeper. “I doubt it…but we can wait a little bit,” he said, sitting down on the broken concrete steps. I sat next to him, his arm wrapping me up, and as I looked at the cold, barren land, in nowhere Illinois, I was glad to be here with Chandler. After an hour though, I was getting a little bored. Chandler was in a quiet mood and not very talkative and his body heat made me sleepy. When I heard something, a soft bang, I gave a start. “What is it?” he asked, peering down at me. When I heard nothing, I yawned. “I thought I heard something.” He pointed to the horizon. “A tractor.” “At this time of the season?” I asked, puzzled. “Could be hauling grain, or making sure the tractors ride okay,” he said, and I suppose being a country boy, he’d know. “Things rust out here like crazy if you’re not careful.” “Oh…” I sat up straight when I heard it again, a muffled ‘clank’, somewhere from behind us, and the house. “What the hell?”

“What?” Chandler called after me, when I got up and sprinted towards where I thought I’d heard the sound. “Dammit, Amy! Don’t run off like that!” I looked behind me just as Chandler caught up to me. I pointed. And wouldn’t I know it. A half a mile behind the house was a small wood barn, also dilapidated. I could make out the tire tracks coming from it that merged into the main driveway. When we both heard the ‘clank’ sound, we looked at each other, and raced toward the barn or garage or whatever the building was. Chandler beat me with his damn long legs, and had me stay a few yards back, just to make sure it wasn’t a wild animal or anything. When we clearly heard a man’s voice swearing, and then the sound of metal loudly banging against metal, I knew it wasn’t the usual kind of animal Chandler might have entertained. One side of the door hung off its hinges, the bolt rusted and busted. The other side of the door was partly ajar, and Chandler forced it open, using his strength to push it aside. The older man inside gave a yelp of surprise, holding up a metal tool in his right hand, ready to fight. I looked at him and knew it was him in an instant. Jack Whitehead. At some point, the man that Chandler’s mom had fallen for had been good looking but years of abuse and not taking care of himself had done its toll, and God only knew what

other vices had hastened his run-down appearance. He was in a thick coat, the hood of the car propped open and he eyed us suspiciously. I walked up, cautiously. He was in his mid-fifties with long, blondish brown hair, a mustache, and lots of stubble. Bloodshot eyes with an overall tired, haggard look about him. He looked ill, like he might keel over any second. His once robust, tall body was now too thin, almost wasted away. “Who the fuck are you?” he growled. Chandler just stared, his mouth moving but not a sound coming out. I stepped forward. “My name is Amy,” I introduced, then looked at Chandler. “And this is…” “Chandler,” Chandler finally said, blinking. “Chandler Spiros.” Nothing. Jack scowled at us, still holding up his tool like he might use it on us. “You’re on private property!” “Are you…Jack Whitehead?” Chandler asked, his voice raspy and low. He gave Chandler a sour expression. “Who wants to know?” he asked, furtive and defensive. “I’m your son,” Chandler said, just barely audible. I went over and stood next to him. “I mean, one of them…” Jack just glared dolefully at both of us but seemed to realize we weren’t going to do anything

to him. He moved to the side of the car and set the tool on top of the roof, next to a six-pack of beer. He swiped a can, and drank from it like it was water. It was barely noon. “Whadda want?” he snapped. “I’m busy.” “You always this pleasant or do you work at it?” I quipped. His gaze narrowed at me, then turned… appraising. My skin crawled at that point and Chandler stiffened. He brought me into his body then slightly behind. I wasn’t going to resist and stayed put. “So Jack,” Chandler began. There was a nervousness, a vulnerability that I’d never heard in his voice before. “This is strange, I know, but I recently found out you’re my biological father. I don’t know if you remember Stefana Spiros?” Jack shrugged and pursed his wrinkled lips. “Don’t know her, don’t care, and what the fuck you wanna know at this point?” He squinted at us while he chugged his beer. When the can was emptied, he squeezed it, threw it deep in the back of the garage, and took another from the six-pack. “Fuck if I remember all of the women I was with. That was a long time ago.” I watched Chandler. As much as I wanted to be able to relate to him, right now, I had no idea what was going through his mind. “So you don’t remember my mom,” Chandler

inferred. He was fishing for Jack to disprove him. The man scoffed. “Son, I barely remember what day it is, let alone all of the goddamn women I was with back in the day. When I was your age, I had any woman I wanted.” His smile was positively evil, his eyes lingering on me again. “You must take after me, too.” Chandler’s jaw tensed. “I don’t need a commentary. Or how well you played the field.” “Well then, what the hell did you come all this way for?” he bit out. “You came here for something. What?” I glanced around the garage, and it was as filthy, ratty and disorganized as what I’d seen through the front window of his house. As the man before me, as well. I wondered how anyone lived so slovenly. I kept my mouth shut, instead letting Chandler do the talking. “I don’t know what I wanted, exactly,” Chandler said, at a loss for words. Then he shrugged, then looked him in the eye, suddenly resolute. “But I do want to ask you a question. Why didn’t you just pick one woman and stick to her?” “Son, according to my last count, I supposedly have seventeen kids. Seven-fucking-teen, but who the hell knows the real number. I sure wasn’t keeping track,” he said, derisively and proceeded in draining his second beer in only a few seconds. “If

that ain’t a symbol of a man who did his duty on this earth to spread his seed, well, I don’t know what the fuck you want from me. Look, not everyone gets to have a father. That’s just the way life is. My dad was dead before I could have memories. The fucking farm raised me. Anything else you want to know?” Seventeen kids. Where had I heard that figure before? Chandler took a deep breath. Jack slammed his second beer on the top of his beat up, rusted, dilapidated car, and cracked up a third can. The man knew how to drink. “Yeah I just have one more question,” Chandler said. “Are you happy?” I swear I saw Jack Whitehead snap to attention at that one. I did too because I hadn’t expected that question at all. He swallowed. “Son, happiness ain’t got much to do with the world.” Chandler seemed to take that in and I couldn’t tell by his expression what the answer meant to him. He looked at the suitcase and the car. “Going somewhere?” The hard grit to Jack’s eyes returned. “Always.” Chandler nodded. “Thanks for meeting me,” he went on. “I do appreciate it. We’ll be going now. We won’t bother you again.” Chandler was already heading for the door and

dragging me behind him by my hand. I looked back. Chandler didn’t. I wasn’t sure how that’d gone. As we walked to the truck, a light snow began to fall. “Want to go get some food?” Chandler asked once we were back in the car. “I’m starving. And I couldn’t stand to be by him for another minute.” “Sure,” I answered, eying him and going with the flow, for now. He seemed strangely calm. “Great, can you Google something in the town?” I found a four-star lunch place on Yelp called The Southern Grille and we headed there. We pulled up to a red light and Chandler slammed on the brakes so hard I jerked forward and almost hit my head on the dashboard. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?!” “Oh, I don’t know, I just found out my father has seventeen fucking kids running around. That he knows of. So that means I have seventeen half siblings running around out there. And I bet they’re all as fucked up as I am!” Delayed reaction much? I put a hand on his knee, trying to get over my near-death experience to comfort my…boy…friend. I looked at him. “You’re not fucked up,” I told him, and let him see it on my face, hear it in my voice, that I wasn’t feeding him a line. I believed what I said. He arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m not fucked

up. Really?! C’mon, Amy, you know me better than anyone else. You know what I’m like. You know me to the fucking bone, and even you don’t trust me because you know my past. I’m just like my father. I’m fucking doomed. I’ve got the Casanova genes running through my blood, and the only girl who I’ve ever cared about enough to quell that behavior—the only girl I’ve ever loved—she’s left me fucking heartbroken.” I didn’t breathe from the time he’d said the Lword to when the light turned green and we traveled a quarter mile. By then, I was gasping for air. I blindly watched the small town of Murphysboro go by. The snow was falling harder now, and Chandler turned on the windshield wipers. I replayed what Chandler had said in my head and my breath caught. “Did you just say you loved me?” “Yes,” he said, in a matter of fact way. As if he’d considered all the options, the ones that included liking me, or liking me a lot, and the only logical emotion left was love. We found The Southern Grill and pulled into the parking lot, but neither of us budged. He took big breaths and looked me in the eye as he spoke. “I don’t give a shit if you don’t love me back. I’m done playing coy with you and trying to be your amigovio or some ambiguous thing. I need more. I want more. You.”

It’s everything I could ever hope to hear. But I’d learned that with us, it was never that simple. I still couldn’t bring myself to offer my heart to a man who lived an ocean away. Saying that word— which I’d said in the past but had not completely meant—put me out there in a way I still wasn’t ready for. “I feel that way about you too. Probably since we met the first time in Spain,” I said, trying not to lose control over my emotions. “But Chandler, our lives are on opposite ends of the world. You don’t want the things I do, remember?” He clenched his jaw, his eyes still not leaving mine. “I had a tryout yesterday for the NBA. Detroit offered me a spot on the team. It’s not Chicago, but it’s closer to you. I don’t care if you don’t reciprocate, or you think I’m too fucked up to love. I’m going to chase you until the day I die, Amy. I’m not going to end up like Jack fucking Whitehead, too busy sleeping around to love. I’ve reached the end of the road, and it’s you. Only, it doesn’t feel like the end of the road. It feels like the beginning. If you just give me one damn shot.” My belly fluttered. “You’re moving back here?” “Yes,” he replied firmly. “For me?” My heart pounded as I looked out the windshield. The snow had begun to pile up, and the outside world was disappearing. The heat was still

running inside the truck, and I was getting hot as hell. I took off my jacket in between waiting for Chandler to respond. At the moment, he was staring out the window. “For you and me,” he stated. “It’s time for me to move on from my past. I know it’s a big step, me moving back to the States, but I need to know if there’s even a chance for us to make it.” Chandler had placed his hand on my jean-clad knee at some point. I hadn’t even noticed. He brought hand up to my waist and pulled me toward his side of the truck. The cup divider in the middle prevented us from totally touching. I faced him and ran a hand through his hair. It seemed like the right thing to do, comfort a man who had just tried to come to grips with a demon of his past that was still very present in his mind and life. I didn’t know if it was subconscious, but his hand squeezed my thigh. I couldn’t help melting inward at his touch. I still wanted him, dammit. And I was beginning to think maybe I was the one with trust issues. “No one can hear us right now,” I said. “So you can tell me if you’re feeling weird about this whole day, this whole situation here with your—father.” I gulped as I said the word ‘father.’ Was Chandler okay with me calling him that? “Jack, I mean. And I feel like it’s all my fault.” He reached up to my head with a hand, and, gripping me, pulled me into him for a kiss. “Will

you shut up for one damn second?” The kisses began slowly. He ran his hand gently along my hair, my back, and caressed my neck. He pulled back, and the distance was almost painful. “You haven’t really responded to what I just said,” Chandler went on. “I said I love you.” “I, I don’t know what to say. I’ve thrown that word around before, and I don’t think I meant it.” “Well, I’ve never said it, not once. And I mean it. And I don’t give a shit if you say it back or not. I only want to hear it if it’s the truth.” “Fuck, Chandler.” “You want me, don’t you?” “Yes,” I mouthed. I ran my hand from his chest down his abs but stopped before I arrived at his belt. Desire flowed through me as I recalled the countless hours we’d spend with our bodies wrapped around each other in Barcelona. Here he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, and my brain was struggling to even give him a chance. My body, however, had already made up its mind about what I wanted to do with Chandler. His large hand wrapped around my waist, he glanced around the interior of the truck and then tipped his chin to the back seat. I smiled. “You want to fuck me in the back of the truck?” “No, you want to fuck me in the back of the truck.”

My lips parted. “Is it that obvious?” “It is when you know what to look for. And I do.” He smirked. That classic, cocky, Chandler smirk was back. I giggled as he grabbed me by the waist and tossed me into the backseat. Fuck, I loved it when he was bad. He jumped in the back with me and I straddled him. I grinded my body against him, my jeans against his. “I want you so bad right now, you have no idea,” he said. “Well, judging by this”—I reached between his legs and squeezed his firm cock—“I have some idea.” He groaned and looked at me, darting his eyes all around my body. I took my hand off him, sighed, and hugged him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Something is bugging you,” he said. “Spit it out.” I took a deep breath. “You’re right. Something is bugging me. I guess I just…can’t believe this is a thing. You and me. Me forgiving you. I think I’m crazy. With all the girls in your past…I trust you. I’m fucking crazy. I believe you don’t have a kid, now. I believe that Nina, and Norma, and what’s her face…I believe you when you tell me they meant nothing. Tell me I’m not fucking crazy.” Chandler took a long pause and pulled my body

closer to his. “I’ve never settled down in the past. You know that. I’ve never lied about anything to you. I’m not a relationship type of guy, that’s for sure. I’m just not built for them. Shit, it’s probably hardwired in my genetic code. Look my father.” My body reacted strongly to that. A wave of emotion coursed through me. “So you’re not a relationship guy?” “No, I’m not,” Chandler shook his head. My heart sank and I tipped my chin down. My eyes were wet with tears. I was sitting here, straddling the man who said he loved me, but he still said he wasn’t a relationship guy. I cried hard. Chandler matched my chin with his finger and brought it up again. He was smiling. “I’m not a relationship guy. But I am an Amy’s guy. ” He kissed me lightly on the mouth, then continued. “I don’t want to end up like Jack motherfucking Whitehead, drinking Keystone Light at noon on a Saturday by himself because he’s got no love in his life. Seeing…him…that was the last straw that made me realize that what I thought I didn’t want was just me running away.” He paused, letting that sink in. “I’m done running. I want fucking you, Amy. And yeah, I thought I didn’t want that whole family, marriage, kids, husband thing, and I don’t— unless it’s with you. Are you hearing me? I love you. And I’ve known it for a long time, too.” My chest rose and fell. “Since when?”

“Since the first time I saw you at Doña Maria’s house. Amelita.” “Oh God.” I let out a moan. Hearing Chandler say my Spanish name, I tried to keep a cool head— to put all of this in perspective. I looked into his green-blue eyes. I caressed his olive-tan skin, and I saw honesty. I saw a man who was submitting himself to my will. I could take his love and toss it aside, assume he was as insincere as the four men who’d told me they loved me before. But his eyes told the truth. Everything was better with him. He was a drug I wanted for life. “I love you too,” I finally conceded. “Goddamn it feels good to hear you say that.” Chandler wrapped his arms around me in a squeeze so tight I thought he might break me. He pulled my arms back, and his eyes seared into me. Suddenly, we dove into each other like wild animals in mating season. My jeans and shirt came off and so did his we were down to our underwear in under thirty seconds. He ripped my bra off and I gasped, but it was what I wanted. He dragged his tongue from my neck between my breasts and circled my pink nipples. The want we had for each other was gone. Desire was also gone. Both had been replaced with a pure, feral, need. Our love had been declared— after five years. I lay down on the seat and his thick, hard cock

ground against my thigh. I slid his briefs down and he did the same to my panties. “Fuck me, Chandler,” I panted. “Fuck me.” I was so wet. He had no trouble sliding inside despite his girth. Once he was in, I wrapped my legs around him. Despite the cold weather, our bodies were hot and sweaty, pressed against each other. “Wait,” I whispered in his ear. He stopped, running my hair behind my ear and looked at me with worry in his eyes. “What? Everything okay?” “Yes. It’s perfect. Too perfect. This is how we’re meant to be, and I just wanted to feel you linger inside me for a moment before you fuck me senseless.” His Adam’s apple shifted in his throat. “Fuck.” I felt his dick twitch inside me as I swallowed him whole with my pussy. Slowly, we began grinding our hips against each other. He fisted a bunch of my hair, and our eyes locked the whole time we fucked. The crescendo was slow and steady. He thrust in and out with a one-two rhythm for a few minutes. Soon, though, we couldn’t get enough of each other. We bucked, flesh on flesh, like it was the last fuck of our lives. I couldn’t scream anything coherent. I just moaned and reached my hands behind me on the goddamn window identical to that scene in Titanic.

He growled as he thrust deep, powerful strokes into me. I came hard, clenching all around his dick. “Chandler,” I managed to breath into his ear. “I fucking love you.” “God, I fucking love you, too.” Chandler yelled. I cried out, and the earth shook as he came, shooting his hot strands of cum into me. “For the love of Christ, Chandler,” I said as he finally finished. My smile turned hazy. “How much did you come?” “Just need to make sure you know you’re fucking mine.” We changed spots, Chandler lying across the back seat inside of me. I collapsed on top of him in a pool of post-coital sweat. “I love you, Amy,” he said again, craning his neck to kiss my forehead. “I love you, too, Chandler.” I smiled as I snuggled into his chest. Maybe the world outside was cold and harsh, but together, scarred as we were, we were a goddamn beautiful thing.

EPILOGUE

T

he Casanova Experience EPIC-logue

Amy

ONE YEAR L ATER

THOUSANDS OF FANS cheered in the United Center when Chandler hit a shot. It was the fourth quarter of a game against Detroit. Chicago's star player had injured his ankle so all of the papers were saying they wouldn't even make it past the first round of

playoffs. This gave Chandler his big shot to play, and he hit four three pointers to put the bulls up by two with seven seconds to go. I could feel the energy in the stadium, all around me, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Andrea and Jake sat next to me in the front row. They'd gotten a babysitter for their littlest one, but Tate, now eleven, had joined us. “Holy shit, Amy, how the fuck did you keep quiet this whole time about the fact that your boyfriend is a star athlete?” Jake beamed, his arm around Andrea. I swear, there wasn't a single picture before last summer of him smiling, but around Andrea and the kid, it's all he did. I'd never seen a bad boy take such a dramatic turn in personality. Except I had seen it happen. With Chandler. After we drove up from Murphysboro a year ago now, I'd felt as though Chandler had died and been born again. He immediately found a spot on an NBA team, and every sports radio pundit from New York to LA was wondering where this ‘hidden talent’ had come from. Tate, Jake and Andrea’s adopted boy, might have been Chandler's biggest fan. Chandler guarded their star player as he came down the court with the ball. Honestly though, as much as I liked watching

his games, my mind drifted to what we’d been doing last night.

I LAY ON THE BED , face down. My ankles and wrists tied to the bedposts, I could barely move. The lights were dimmed in our apartment, and even if they weren't, I was blindfolded so I wouldn't have been able to see a thing. Chandler’s breath and his body rustling were two of the only things I heard. “Are you ready for me, Squirt?” his deep voice said behind me. I trembled, conscious from the indent in the mattress that he was kneeling on it close to me. He ran a fingertip along my body, starting at my ankles, slowly dragging it across the flesh of my thighs and ass, down the valley of my lower back, continuing his path until he reached my neck. He squeezed softly with his hand, not enough to hurt, but enough for me to feel that this was a very strong man in control of my sexual destiny. Strong enough to hurt me if he so desired. He wouldn't. “I think so,” I breathed. “You think so?” Chandler imitated. I could feel him grinning as he said the words. I swallowed and involuntarily pulled on all the ropes, causing my torso to tense. “I mean I am,“ I

whispered. I felt the bed cave in a little between my legs, and I thought he might be kneeling on the mattress. When I felt both of his large palms rubbing in circles on my ass cheeks, I knew I was right. I wanted him and everything he chose to give me. “Do you trust me, Amy?” he asked. “Yes. You know I do,” I said. I could lie to myself and say that I'd actually trusted myself around other men, but that'd never been true. Chandler was the one and only man who I'd gifted my entire being to. He instinctively knew what to do, just how to press my buttons. “Good,” he said, and I could feel the heat of his naked body as he leaned over me, the warmth of each muscular arm on either side of my ribs. They must have been just a hair’s breadth from swiping my skin, because I swore I could feel his energy radiating into me. I had no idea how he was staying balanced, but I felt one of his full hands as it massaged my lower back up to my shoulder and neck, somehow a finessed but strong grip at the same time. Maybe the fact that Chandler played a sport that requires strength and a strong grip at once has given him an added superpower: massage professional. “Chandler, God that feels good.” “And I haven't even started with the oils yet.” “Mmm” I moaned, drawing the sound in the

back of my throat. I relaxed my appendages while Chandler worked back and forth down my upper back and neck, the oil application softening and smoothing my skin. With nothing to look at but the black cloth of the blindfold I was wearing, I felt so relaxed as though I might float away. In a moment of introspection, I wondered how the hell I'd gotten this damn lucky. The man who I'd fantasized about--touched myself to since week one of meeting him--was mine. I'd thought about his big arms as arm porn, and soon those same arms would be pulling my hair as he drove his thick cock deep into me, making me orgasm like it was his fucking mission on earth. “Amy,” he whispered in my ear. “What are you thinking about?” Fuck. The damn man always knew when I was thinking dirty thoughts, it seemed. How did he read my mind? Who knew. But I refused to lie to him, however dumb, seemingly insignificant, or otherwise embarrassing I judged my own thoughts to be. We'd had long talks about the importance of truthfulness and vulnerability and how we would always be that way with each other. I didn't doubt that knowing I could so fully be myself with someone contributed to the complete disappearance of my depression since the day we met Chandler’s father. So I didn’t have any problem telling him exactly what was going through

my mind. “I was thinking about how good your cock is going to feel so deep inside me once you finally fuck me.” I spoke in a mostly even tone, though my voice caught at the end. Chandler said nothing, and his hand stopped the motion he had been making on my back. For a few moments, all I could hear were the deep breaths he was taking. “Hey,” I whispered, a little anxious. “What are you doing?” “What the fuck do you think I’m doing, Amy,” he growled back. “I’m stroking my cock to that nice, thick ass of yours. You have a particularly nice ass, Squirt. You knew that though.” “Holy fuck,” I breathed out. I always thought my ass was okay, but Chandler’s obsession with it made me feel even cuter. “That’s right, Amy,” he growled, leaning close to my ear. “I’m thinking about fucking you right now. I’ve got my hard cock out, and I can’t wait to push this thing deep into your throbbing pussy.” “I’m so wet, Chandler, just do it already. Please.” “You want to feel my cock inside you?” “Ung-huh,” I tried to nod but my chin was stopped by the pillow, preventing the full expression of the movement. “Alright.”

I felt a heavy thud of flesh strike my ass with a slap. “How does that feel?” “Mmm, it feels good. I love it when you spank my ass.” He chuckled, the same cocky laugh that I remembered from the very first day I met him six years ago. He’d completely changed and he hadn’t changed at all, somehow. “I didn’t spank you, Squirt. I just dropped my cock on you.” “Dear God,” I mouthed, and I felt a few more slaps of his dick, sending ripples across my flesh. I tensed and throbbed and pulled on the ropes. I was a thunderstorm between my legs, and wanted to touch myself so bad, but my tied appendages prevented that. “Will you please just fuck me?” I begged. “Not until you you answer a few questions,” he teased. I could feel him circling the tip of his member on my ass, getting closer to my opening. “Anything. I’ll answer anything.” “Who does this pussy belong to?” “You. Christ, Chandler, it always has. Since the day I met you I wanted it to be yours.” “Really?” There seemed to be genuine surprise in his voice. Odd for dirty talk. “When was the first time you thought about me?” I swallowed. Fuck, for all our honesty, I didn’t

talk much about the very first time I thought about him. The truth was, I always felt a little dirty for how hard I’d come just thinking about him. Listening to him with another girl like a live action porno. “Amy, why are you hesitating?” I breathed deeply. “I thought about you...once when you were fucking that first girl. I don’t remember her name. You would bring her home when we studied abroad for the first week. One night, I couldn’t sleep, and I pleasured myself while listening to how hard and good you fucked her.” He let out a powerful, throaty groan. “Mother of God that’s hot.” I turned my head to the side to make sure I spoke the next words clearly. “I wanted it to be me, Chandler. I wanted to be your girl.” “That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve heard in my life.” “It’s true.” He leaned down and brushed my hair behind my ear. He nibbled on my lobe and kissed me softly. Goosebumps went down my neck and reverberated through my entire body. “How the fuck can you be so fucking sweet,” he paused, “and such a fucking dirty girl at the same time.” I giggled. “Probably those DSG cocktails you made me have at the Shots bar that one night.”

“The what?” “You know. The Dirty Sweet Girl Cocktails. They worked. You got your wish.” He laughed slowly. “Fucking A. You’re incredible, aren’t you.” “What?” “This is why I fucking love you. We’re here, you’re tied up, totally naked. And we’re having a conversation I could keep having for fucking hours.” He rubbed his hand on my ass, and I could feel some of the oil remaining from when he’d been massaging my back. “You’re fucking incredible.” “If you say so.” I felt a hard smack come down on my ass. That was definitely not his cock that time. “Say you’re fucking incredible, Amy.” The smack was meant to be a punishment, but it felt good. “I’m incredible.” “Goddamn fucking right. Now how wet is your pussy?” “Mmm,” I whimpered. “Too wet not to have a cock in it.” He dragged his hand slowly around my ass and finally graced my clit with a light touch. My breath shortened as he pushed his finger around my slit, spreading my juices. “You’re fucking right about that. Shit, you’re a goddamn hurricane down there, Squirt.” “Please. Fuck me, Chandler. Fuck me hard and

fuck me deep with that big cock of yours. I’m fucking yours and you know it. I’ve been yours forever. And I always will be.” “Shit, well when you put it like that…” Chandler’s voice trailed off. His arms fell to the sides of my torso again and I felt his fleshy tip at my opening as he got ready to enter me from behind. He had to rub it around a few times, getting my slit ready for his size. I bit my lip as he pushed inside, filling me up inch by inch. “You are a dirty girl, but this pussy, fuck it’s sweet,” he said. “Shut up and fuck me,” I whimpered, surprising even myself at my own forcefulness. I wanted this so bad. Needed this. “Less talking, more fucking.” I emphasized, calling on our old motto. “Oh yeah? Is this what you want?” Chandler stroked his cock with my clit. In and out, slow and and deliberate. Fuck, it felt good. The truth was I needed him to warm me up like this. With Chandler having fingered me like usual, he couldn’t go straight in before I got used to him. Still, I wanted him to fuck me like I knew he was aching to, with a fire in his eyes and with bucking hips that would make me beg for mercy. We’d burned slowly for six years to get to this point. I wanted the fire to rage. “Please, Chandler. You know what I want,” I begged, and my voice went low and hoarse. “Ruin

me.” Chandler grunted like a fucking animal and gave me three hard pumped before pulling out. I gasped at the emptiness left in me when his cock exited. I felt him reach down toward my feet and pull the ropes off both of the bed post, letting me my legs free. I shook them out freely, feeling liberated by having movement in them back. He pulled my legs in so they were flush together, my knees finally touching the mattress again. Then he gave my ass another smack. I whimpered. “Since you’re being such a good girl, just as I asked, I’m going to give it to you, baby. I’m going to give you the whole thing. Everything you want.” With my asscheeks pressed together, my pussy was extra tight as Chandler slowly reentered me with his sizable tip, spreading me apart from behind. His shaft was still slick with my juices, and I was so sopping wet, he was able to enter fully with ease. I moaned as I felt his balls slam into me. “Fuck, Amy, you’re too tight, I’ve got to break you in.” “Do it,” I moaned. “Break me, baby.” I loved the feeling of his hips smooshing into my ass as he slid in and out of me. He started slow again but gradually increased his rhythm. After a few minutes, he was fucking my pussy so hard and so deep I was screaming with every

thrust of his. His hands worked their way around my body, feeling up parts of my ass, my back, pulling my hair, until he finally wrapped them around my front and grabbed my tits, using them for leverage to fuck me harder. I bucked under his weight, loving the feeling of his rock hard abs against my back. A film of sweat formed between our bodies. We were slippery, but somehow together the magnetism of our skin pulled us together again and again. And then there was the fact that Chandler had me in a stronghold, his arms wrapped tightly around me. “Oh fuck, Chandler!” I cried out when he bottomed out. I pulsed around him and felt his cock twitch. Reacting to him, I tightened, and began to come. “I’m...I’m…” I screamed, letting totally loose. But he wasn’t done. In the midst of his deep thrusts, he reached a hand around in between my legs and pressed his middle finger on my slick clit, fingering me as he fucked my cunt. I begged him to fuck me just minutes ago, and now my whimpers made me sound like I was begging for mercy as the first orgasm overtook me. Sure, we played sex games and joked around, but there was no sarcasm when it came to how much my pussy belonged to Chandler. He could finger me better than I could finger myself, and

right now--he was making sure I knew that fact. He ripped the ropes off of the upper bedposts, freeing my arms. Now the only freedom I didn’t have was my sight, which I didn’t even need anymore. He pounded me so hard into the mattress, our bodies bounced together on the creaking thing. He drove into me again and bit my neck hard. When he was done nibbling on me, he whispered: “Just let go, Squirt.” I did. I let fucking go. I let go of everything. I let go of the fifteen years of my life lost to depression, of my resistance to a man who I’d made wait longer than any suitor to have me. And goddamn did I come. It was the finger, his hardness, his size, his talk. And above all, it was the fact that it was him fucking me and he loved me. I lost control and I thought I might pee the bed. Holy fucking Christ what was happening? “Good girl, little Amy,” he whispered. “Buena chica, Amelita.” Chandler speaking Spanish in a deep voice put me over the edge again. I came as he rocked into me with his hard body and dick. I came so much all over his hand that I lost sense of who and where I was. I didn’t even know what decade I was living in. And I didn’t much fucking care anymore. “You’re a bad fucking man,” I screamed out, unsure why those were the words that came out of my mouth. My legs trembled and my entire body

shook as I waited for him to come with me. “Fuck, here it comes,” he grunted. I reached my hands around and grabbed him on the ass, guiding him deep into me. My shoulders and face drove into the mattress as he slammed his hips into me over and over. God I wanted his cum. “Come deep inside me, baby,” I moaned to him. He obliged, and I felt him shoot the warm liquid into me. His full body pressed into mine as he shot round after round into me. No way he could have released any further, and deeper into me. When he was done we collapsed in a heap together, a tangle of breathing and living limbs and torsos and heads. “Baby, fuck. I swear you get hotter, wetter every time,” he said. He pulled out of me and I gasped at the empty feeling I had inside me. I pulled the blindfold off and looked into Chandler’s deep blue-green eyes, the ones I’d fallen so madly in love with six years ago. It’d just taken the courage to admit it. I rolled onto my back, and he rubbed his hand up and down my thigh, stroking me lightly. “I don’t know what happened back there,” I admitted. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s always good, but something just snapped.” He grinned. “I love it when you snap.” He put his other hand down on the mattress to prop himself up, but stopped when his palm touched something

that made him ruffle his brow. “Damn, we were sweating a lot, weren’t we.” He ran his hand along the damp sheet. I stayed silent, and began to blush, feeling with my own palm how wet it had gotten. The biggest spot was close to my ass. I swallowed. “I don’t think that is sweat,” I giggled. My grin turning positively sly. “Well if it’s not sweat, then it would have to be…” He smirked, coming to the same realization that I had come to. Literally come to. “Like I said. I think you finally found my spot. Like my secret compartment. Are you going to remember that?” “I don’t know if you know this about me,” he said in a joking Anchorman Will Ferrell voice, “But I’m kind of a big deal. And I remember every fucking last thing about you, Squirt. Like the look on your face when I impregnated you.” I had snorted, dying laughing, until I comprehended the last thing he said. “Impregnated me? How can you be sure?” He shrugged. “Just kidding. But I will remember the look on your face when I ask you to marry me.” “When you...what?” My heart began to pound like crazy as he reached behind his back onto the nightstand, pulled out a ring. Naked, he got down on one knee. on the

bed. I shot up from my lazy lying-down position, suddenly crazy alert. “Squirt, I love making you squirt. And I love you. Marry me.” I grinned at his joke. The way he said it wasn’t a question. Still, he knew the answer. “Yes,” I breathed. “Of course.” Tears streamed down both of my cheeks, and he slipped the ring over my naked finger and kissed my hand.

THE END MICKEY MILLER

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