The constant tap of her fingers across the keys began to take on the rhythm pumping its way into Ororo’s headphones while she updated her spreadsheet. They were still the same jacked up pair Anna threatened to throw out the last time they spoke. Some things, some people, and some habits never changed.
*
Anna was appalled that Ororo didn’t own an iPod yet, and was even more aghast at the pitiful pair of ear buds she took to work everyday. Anna got a hold of them one day when they went to Ororo’s gym for a step aerobics class. She picked up the coil of wires and carefully unwound it, curious.
“What. On. Earth. Ororo, tell me why? Why, girl?”
“What?”
“Why on earth haven’tcha buried these miserable thangs?”
“They’re perfectly good,” Ororo reasoned.
“They are NOT. Look at this! The foam’s practically worn through…naw, look, it ain’t even that, the cover keep’s fallin’ off this one! Yer gonna be trottin’ along on the treadmill after class and go to stick this in yer ear, and the cover’s gonna be gone somewhere, swimmin’ in the dustballs in the cardio theater.” She shook them accusingly at Ororo. “That’s pitiful. Pitiful.”
“Don’t hurt their feelings,” Ororo pouted.
“The wires aren’t even the same length. Whaddya do, just let ‘em hang from yer ears lopsided?”
“No. I just tie another little knot in them where they split-“
“So they’re still technically lopsided…”
“…but less lopsided than they would be otherwise. And voila. I don’t have to buy another pair of headphones.”
“No shit. If ya’d let me get ya an iPod and drag ya kickin’ and screamin’ into this century, ya wouldn’t have ta worry about it at all.”
“I like listening to the news sometimes when they turn on CNN.”
“Woman, please!”
“What? I like the financial reports.”
“Of course ya would,” Anna groaned. She stared at her friend long and hard, sighing. “C’mon. Let’s go ta Costco. Go iPod shopping.”
“No,” Ororo insisted. “I’m saving up for a rainy day. I’ll get one eventually. It’s on my wish list.” At the bottom.
“Hardheaded.”
“I don’t want you spending money on me. You know that.”
“Ya don’t mind on yer birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday. And I do mind. I like it when we just go out to dinner.”
“Ya always spend money on me,” Anna pointed out.
“That’s different.”
“Naw, it ain’t.”
Ororo didn’t want to voice out loud that she felt guilty about having a wealthy friend. She didn’t want to be part of Anna’s “entourage” and be “taken care of” just because she had money to spend.
In the meantime, Anna was up her way for the weekend, and they were having a ball. The weather was finally warming up enough that Ororo could wear her lightweight spring trenchcoat to work with a simple silk scarf instead of weighing herself down with layers of wool and fleece. They were off to Ororo’s new gym for a workout before they went window shopping, and Anna’s presence was helping Ororo shake off that “disjointed” feeling she’d had since her move. It was hard to decide if Boston was her cup of tea yet.
They parked in the back of the lot and made their way inside. Ororo smelled chlorine wafting inside from the club’s pool and Jacuzzi. Even if it was heated, it amazed her that anyone could be brave enough, or just dumb enough, to jump in and swim laps in the middle of April.
Ororo greeted the membership check-in desk’s clerk with a smile and presented her keys and Anna’s guest pass.
“Here you go,” she told them, handing them fluffy, warm towels and bottles of water.
“We still on time for the step class?”
“There are still a couple of open spots.”
“Phew,” Anna breathed, pleased.
“Let’s roll.”
The classroom was in a newly remodeled suite with spanking new hardwood floors, wall to wall mirrors, and racks of workout toys, rolled-up yoga mats and dumbbells behind them.
The instructor was pint-sized and built like a Spartan. “Spread out and give each other some room,” she chirped. Everyone stretched out on the mat first, then grabbed step blocks and lined them up.
“I haven’t done one of these forever,” Ororo confessed.
“Bad girl,” Anna chided.
“Shut up.” Anna stuck out her tongue.
They were making good on their New Year’s resolution four months after the fact. Ororo spent most of winter happily hibernating when she wasn’t traveling to client sites. Her gym visits had been too few and far between, but now that the weather was brightening up, she walked downtown for her lunches and was enjoying the first hints of sunshine.
“All right! Let’s get in a nice little warmup!” Ororo’s stomach twisted in anticipation. She was in the mood to sweat, but it was the promise of pain that made her leery. The instructor looked like a miniature sadist and had an evil gleam in her eye.
Twenty minutes in, Ororo’s fears were fully realized. Her lazy quads and hamstrings were beginning to feel the burn as she did her best to keep up with the class. Keeping her step block low helped, but the workout routine itself was full of fast changes and turns that she could have done without. Anna, on the other hand, was having a field day and hardly looking winded at all.
Ten minutes later: “C’mon, now, let’s bring up those arms and burn more calories!”
Twenty minutes later: “Breathe through your diaphragm, ladies!” Ororo silently wondered to herself how well Bambi could breathe with her tiny mic stuffed down her throat…
Thirty minutes later, and Ororo was drowning in her own sweat, bringing it down in a cooldown exercise that still felt too much like work. But she felt euphoric, like she’d shaken off the brain fade and spreadsheet psychosis from so many months of renewals and too much time behind her desk.
“That felt good,” Anna Marie said as they hunkered down and stretched.
“Uh-huh.” Ororo’s tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She greedily sucked down half of her bottle of Evian and wiped a stray drop from her lip.
She had the eerie feeling she was being watched. Anna looked at her oddly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just…” She peered around the class, only seeing a sea of women as whipped as she was, fanning themselves and removing sweat-shirts with damp, triangular stains in unflattering places.
She craned her neck and looked over her shoulder toward the entrance.
Logan.
His dark eyes swallowed her up, making her feel naked.
Again. Ororo felt herself going up in flames.
“Shit,” she hissed under her breath.
“Whatsamatter?”
“Nothing,” she insisted.
“Okay…”
“Thought I saw someone I knew,” she scoffed.
“Not a good somebody?”
“Nobody important,” she corrected.
“Ya mean that short, burly lookin’ guy with the six-pack starin’ in through the window?” Ororo looked up from her task of retying her shoes and caught Anna’s wicked smile. She gave a little wave.
“Anna! Stop that! Don’t encourage him!”
“It’s no big deal. He’s already leavin’.”
“Wait…he is?”
Ororo peered back around, and Logan was already gone. “Good,” she muttered.
So why did she feel disappointed?
They retreated to the treadmills and managed to find two next to each other. They signed up for a half an hour. The jog Ororo promised herself started off as an unsteady walk for the first five minutes as she caught her bearings. Ororo caught sight of herself in another mirror along the wall and winced. She looked like hell, no surprise. She’d abandoned her sweatshirt and tucked it into her cubby, but her tank in the meantime was clinging to her and patchy with sweat, emphasizing the edges of her sports bra underneath. Her hair was flying, too, fuzzy bits sticking up from her ponytail. Her skin was flushed and gleaming under the harsh gym lights.
Anna Marie was having no such problems, still looking fresh as a daisy, and she had sweat-proof hair. It was an injustice. Ororo decided she felt a little more up to running now, and she peeked at the red digital display on Anna’s treadmill, slowly increasing her own speed until they were running at the same pace.
“Attagirl,” Anna encouraged. She had her iPod on and was blasting her favorite techno music in her ears, indicated by the faint movement of her lips as she mouthed the words. Her paces followed the rhythm set by those beats, and Ororo felt jealous, now that she was stuck with a choice of infomercials, a Knicks game, or a Fabulous Life special on VH1.
There was that eerie feeling again…
Ororo caught a glimpse of someone in dark clothing out of the corner of her eye, just beyond her own reflection in the mirror. She pretended to be watching her incline and calories burned, but that feeling of dark eyes watching her wouldn’t die.
It didn’t help that her clothes felt like they were riding up on her, she had a stitch in her side, and so much sweat had pooled on her skin that it was dripping from her brow. Screw looking graceful…
“’Roro? What’s up?”
“I’m done,” she huffed as she punched the large red emergency stop button and jerked to a halt.
“That’s all ya wanted t’do? Ya’ve got some time left!” Anna insisted.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay…” Anna Marie slowed her pace to a cooldown jog and watched in confusion as her best friend stalked off, furiously rubbing her nape with her towel. “Yer ‘just fine’, mah ass,” she muttered.
She turned off her iPod and stopped her workout in an attempt to catch up with Ororo, then noticed a familiar face over in the free weights. It was Mr. Short, Dark and Burly, and he was still staring after Ororo like he’d been stranded in a desert for a week, and she was a gallon jug of Gatorade.
Anna decided to cut out the middle man and go straight to the source.
She tapped him sharply, interrupting his reverie. He turned and met her gaze, slightly annoyed. Anna almost chuckled at his expression.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Scuse me?”
“Why’re ya givin’ ‘Roro the eye?”
“Ummm…” Her directness left him temporarily speechless.
“I’ve gotta ask, because she ain’t bein’ all that forthright in tellin’ me, and I know there’s a juicy story behind this. Ya can’t blame me for askin’ ya, shoog, since one, ya don’t look like a psycho at first glance.”
“Okay,” he agreed, still flummoxed. Anna liked his mouth, which was twitching at the corners.
“And two, last Ah knew, she was single, somethin’ that’s been a topic of conversation for the last few trips ta Starbucks that have involved hours of bitchin’ about men in general and consumption of obscene amounts of chocolate.” Anna folded her arms beneath her chest and flung her hair back. “So if ya know somethin’ Ah don’t, now’s yer chance ta spill.”
“Well…hnnn…” Logan scratched his nape. “I plead the fifth?”
“I like a pleadin’ man as much as the next woman, shoog, but naw. That ain’t gonna fly.”
“ANNA!”
Before Logan could even come up with anything more than monosyllables, Ororo rounded on them, looking thoroughly irritated.
“Okay, this won’t do at all. For your information,” Ororo said, hand on her hip, glaring at Logan, “this is my best friend, Anna, normally a well-meaning girl, even if she is consorting with the enemy.”
“This is the enemy?” Anna was impressed at the enemy’s biceps, which were currently folding themselves across his very, deliciously broad chest. She licked her lips.
“Anna, this is Logan,” Ororo continued, “who isn’t anywhere near as innocent as he looks. Believe nothing that comes out of his mouth. Nothing.”
“Who said anything about innocent?” Logan muttered.
“He ain’t had much chance ta tell me anything, yet. Seems like the strong, silent type.”
“Nah. That’s yer girl here. She’s in the habit of only givin’ ya half the story.”
“Who, ‘Roro? We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the same woman, bub.” Anna chuckled and shook her head.
“That’s because we aren’t talking about me at all.”
“Don’t know who I’m talkin’ about half the time anyway, when anyone’s talkin’ about you, darlin’.”
“Don’t. Call. Me. Darlin’.”
“Woo-hoo,” Anna whistled, raising her auburn brows.
“Don’t mistake the ‘strong, silent type’ for a Cro-Magnon man who can barely eat with utensils,” Ororo sniped.
“Cro-Magnons invented utensils,” Logan argued with her. “But ya don’t like talkin’ in person much, anyway. Yer more of an email girl.” Ororo cut her eyes at him. “Ain’t that right?”
“Like she said earlier, I’m Anna Marie Darkholme, Ororo’s best friend,” Anna interjected, extending her hand. To her delight, Logan had a strong, brisk grip as he shook it. But she kept a straight face.
“Don’t ya mean Tory’s best friend?”
“Eh. Either one. We’ve known each other since high school,” Anna shrugged. “Thought we normally told each other everything,” she added, giving Ororo a telling look. Ororo looked like he wanted to strangle her. “Til now, anyway.”
“High school? Ya mean ya were actually a kid once?” Logan didn’t seem convinced.
“Metallic lip gloss, stonewashed jeans and all, shoog,” Anna confirmed.
“I’d give fifty dollars to see that.” Ororo wanted to smack the smirk right off his face.
But in the meantime, well, he was making that difficult.
Logan looked really, really good.
Burly, like Anna said, and wearing a snug black, Lycra blend muscle tank entirely too well. He also had on a pair of navy blue basketball warmup pants that snapped up the sides and black and white Adidas on his feet.
His skin was ruddy from his own workout and his own hair was behaving for the most part, except for a few curls around his temples and nape that were damp from his sweat.
He was so close to how she preferred to see him, remembering how he looked windblown, half-buttoned and tanned. It took everything not to touch him, to flatten her hand against his hard chest and let her fingertip brush his nipple, which was standing out in relief beneath his tight shirt.
His eyes jerked down to follow the path of hers, then defiantly, his swept over her body from head to toe. Ororo swallowed, completely unnerved. Bastard.
Her own chest wasn’t cooperating, either. Ororo whipped her towel around her neck and tugged the ends over her breasts, pretending that the gesture was natural.
“Rough workout?” Logan’s voice made it indiscernible whether it was an observation or an offer.
“Why don’t you get back to yours?” Ororo suggested. She did her best to flounce off, but it felt suspiciously like limping.
“Ah should prob’ly go with her,” Anna sighed.
“Yup,” Logan shrugged.
“Nice meetin’ ya.”
“Likewise.”
“For the record…and this is off-the-record…”
“Shoot.”
“Was it a one-night stand?”
“Does it count if it lasted all day?”
“Damn…”
“She looks like she’s about ta kill ya.”
“Pretty much. I’ll, uh-“
“Later, sweet cheeks.”
“Bye.”
Logan watched them with little discretion, clearly enjoying himself. He headed back to the assisted weights and laid back against the bench, plugging the pin two-thirds of the way down the stack. He snuck looks at them between sets as they worked their way around the stationary weights amid a sea of women who weren’t in as good shape.
Damn, she’s hot.
It was frustrating. She finally seemed less buttoned up, even disheveled, making him want to mess her up a little more, get her alone, and there they were in a crowded gym. There wasn’t any justice.
Her little white tank top clung to her in all the right places, and he liked the sight of her long legs and sweet, round hips shrink-wrapped in black yoga pants. Her friend Anna was just as easy on the eyes, but she wasn’t the one who caught his eye. Which was too bad, since she was easygoing and didn’t currently hate him. Yet. Logan had the feeling “ no shit, genius, really? “ that Ororo hadn’t filled her best friend in on the torrid details of their tryst yet. So by extension, Ororo’s best friend could end up hating him, too. It was the law of the jungle. It was a shame.
From her side of the gym, she told herself that Logan had a nerve…no, that he had some serious balls if he thought he could exchange dirt with her best friend. She fumed her way through three sets of hip abductors, mentally chanting “Die, James” with every breath.
“Ya gonna hog that one, or can Ah work in a set?”
“Why don’t you go spot him?” Ororo wheezed. “You looked…*phew* like…*gasp*…you wanted…*gasp*…to work out with him.”
“Ya ain’t exactly makin’ the case fer me not to, shoog.”
“Traitor.”
“News flash, ‘Roro, the man’s fine!” Anna’s hand darted out and smacked her in the shoulder.
“OW!”
“What’re ya doin’ over here, mad at him? Ah can make mahself scarce, ya oughta be over there spottin’ him or offerin’ ta dry him off!”
“Uh-uh,” Ororo insisted. “Not gonna happen.”
“Why. NOT.” Anna was aghast. “Yer gonna waste that hunk of man meat over there over…what? A one-nighter? When yer still speakin’ ta him?”
“We don’t ‘speak,’” Ororo clarified, with air quotes. “He’s an ass. I work with him.”
“Since when?”
“Since New Year’s, when I got back from my vacation.”
“Shit. That sucks. So when did this little ‘oopsie’ happen between you two?”
“Before that. Shortly before.”
“Ya didn’t know ya worked together?”
“Never. That’s the beauty of telecommuting.”
“Geez. That puts a damper on things.”
“There’s nothing to put a damper on. We have nothing in common.”
“He seems nice, but Ah see where yer goin’ with this. Can’t shit where ya eat. Messin’ with a coworker’ll land ya in a whole world of hurt.”
Ororo thought she felt his eyes on her again, but when she looked up, she only saw his retreating back.
And his hard, firm, rolling glutes draped so appealingly in navy Lycra blend as they walked away…wait, as he walked away. Ororo mentally wiped away drool.
“Need this?” Anna handed her a towel.
“Huh?”
“Yer droolin’.”
*
Ororo liked her new digs well enough. It was fun going to lunch with Scott from time to time, but there were a few old haunts that she missed back home. The only consolation was the shopping. Ororo wiggled her toes in a new pair of Vivienne Westwood pumps and was grateful that her larger paycheck allowed the occasional splurge. But she still hated her overpriced, tiny apartment. That much hadn’t changed. Ororo packed the majority of her things and stored them in a rental unit back in New York while Anna babysat some of her things that were too delicate to move.
It was just frustrating to be so far away from her friends. Anna had a standing invitation to come stay with her any weekend that she chose, but it was harder to finesse Stevie and Monica to come out, since they had significant others and children that couldn’t do without them for five minutes.
But her visit with Ali helped a bit when she made a jaunt back to Long Island.
*
“Monet’s getting so big. It’s cute. I love talking to her belly.”
“Pregnant women hate that,” Ororo pointed out.
“You didn’t hate it,” Ali argued.
“Yes I did.”
“No, you didn’t,” she insisted.
“No. I did. I pretended I didn’t, but I did.”
“But it was so much fun, you were so cute!” Then Ali sobered. “Wish things could have turned out differently. I’ll shut up, now.”
“No. You don’t have to. We can talk about it, once in a while. Sometimes I just…take it off the shelf to reminisce, and then put it back when I’m done.”
“He would have been beautiful,” Ali said, looping her arm through Ororo’s as they walked through the park.
“I know. I think his eyes would have been blue.”
And it still hurt. Not just losing the baby, but in the wake of that, losing Vic.
“Men suck, Al.”
“Yeah, they do,” she agreed heartily. “Wanna get a drink? Better yet, wanna see where I’m singing tonight?”
Ororo brightened. “Lead on.”
They stopped at a tiny nightclub that charged a hefty cover and promised a special on shots after seven PM. Ali said hello to a few familiar faces as the busboys cleared away the last of the mess from the dinner crowd.
“Alison!” a deep, thick voice boomed from behind the bar. Ali caught sight of its owner as he came around the corner, carrying a rack of empty beer pitchers.
“Cain!” she cried, grinning. “Staying out of trouble?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, grinning. “Not fer lack of tryin’.”
“Attaboy. Cain, remember Tory?”
“Good to see ya again, toots. Haven’t seen ya here in our lil’ stompin’ grounds lately.”
“I’ve been out of town. This isn’t technically home anymore.”
“Where, then?”
“Boston.”
“Eh. Not a bad trade.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Then ya need a taste of New York ta refresh yer memory. What happens here tonight, stays here. Yer drinks are on the house.”
“Talk about letting a bull loose in a china shop, or a kid in an unsupervised candy story,” Ali warned, reaching across the bar to punch his arm. She had to reach up a ways to do it. Cain was enormous, easily seven feet tall and built like a linebacker. Despite his size, his face was boyishly handsome, a crooked nose from when he broke it in a fight its only flaw.
“Hey, if the cops ask me, I didn’t know nuthin’,” he claimed, holding up his hands.
“Ororo who?” Ororo chimed in, winking at him. He winked back.
“Ooh, I’m so excited!” Ali hugged Ororo hard enough to make her say “oof!” and hopped up and down. “I’m so glad my best girl’s here to get into trouble with me tonight! I’m gonna dedicate a song to you, I swear!”
“Al…” Ororo hated unwanted attention. “Don’t do that!”
“Aw, let her do it. Everybody’ll get jealous,” Cain said. He was watching Ali with his usual admiration that he hid behind easy banter, but Ororo knew how fond he was of the petite songbird.
It never failed. Ali always ended up attracted to the pretty assholes that talked a big game, like Arthur. Then she always ended up being used. Half of Ororo’s talks with Ali over coffee read like dialogue from When Harry Met Sally: “You’re right, you’re right; I know you’re right.”
They bade Cain goodbye and headed back to Ali’s apartment to change and plan out their night. They left an hour later dressed to the nines, but Ororo wasn’t running on all four cylinders yet.
Alcohol helped. Ridiculous amounts of alcohol.
Ororo sat back and watched her friend belt out each song in awe, amazed that she could change her style so easily and completely with each one. One of her connections “in the biz,” Lila Cheney, was sitting out most of the numbers while Ali sang along with her backing band, Cat’s Laughing, while she enjoyed her own drink at a table off to the left.
The faster number that Ali was finishing gradually shifted, slowing to a more sultry beat. Ali was slightly out of breath and her brow was gleaming with sweat as she took a gulp from a glass of water. Ororo was babysitting her cosmopolitan back at their table, and she blew her a kiss.
“Whoo,” she breathed, enjoying the crowd’s applause. “You’re an awesome crowd!” They cheered and threw cat calls and whistles, and she bowed and curtsied, laughing. “Listen, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Real life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?” More catcalls greeted this. “Makes you get tired of all that teeny bopper shit they play on the radio, doesn’t it?” The crowd agreed.
“Here, here,” Ororo muttered, saluting Ali with her glass.
“So I have a special song for you guys tonight, but especially for my best friend, she’s here to support me tonight,” Ali informed them, pointing. The spotlight followed her hand. “There she is!”
“Shit!” Ororo hissed, freezing mid-sip.
“Hi, baby!” Ali cooed innocently. “That’s my buddy Tory, sucking down one of the dollar specials, folks, give her some love!” Ororo flushed and cursed Ali but gave the members of the audience and the band an embarrassed smile.
“This one’s for you,” Ali promised, and the lights on the audience went down, thankfully killing Ororo’s spotlight.
Ali licked her lips and swayed to the slow, yet familiar beat of one of Ororo’s favorite songs. When she opened her mouth, she was a different woman, suddenly one who had loved, survived, and been around the block.
When I had you,
I treated you bad
And wrong, my dear
And girl, since you went away
Don’t you know that I, sit around, with my head
Hangin’ down, and I wonder, who’s loving you…
That brat. She was right. It was one of her favorites, maybe even the favorite out of the old love songs she still dug out from the dustballs of her old vinyl LPs. And Ali wasn’t channeling Michael and his four brothers, or even Smokey.
Terence.
Ororo was just about ready to fall over. Ali just had to sing it like Terence. The girl was killing Ororo. Killing her dead with her rendition of that song.
Ororo was so rapt, gently swaying to the music that she hardly noticed someone had approached her table, hovering over her from behind.
“Tory?” The voice was low and gruff, achingly familiar.
The smile on her lips died a slow death as Vic hunkered down, claiming the seat across from her at the small round table. “Hey.”
“Hi.” The small spark in her eyes died, all signs of mischief gone. Her voice was flat when she asked him, “What are you doing here?”
“Came with a coupla buddies of mine. Just saw a UFC match that one of ‘em bought on Pay-per-View.”
“How nice for you.”
“Don’t get out much lately.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.”
“Looks like the songbird dragged ya outta the house, eh?”
“It didn’t take much. Some people actually think I’m fun to be with, Victor.”
“Yeah. Bet they do.” He took a gulp of his beer. She turned away from him slightly, pretending not to know him as she sipped her fourth drink of the night, longing to simply down it and order another tray of tiny glasses, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He’d never enjoyed being ignored. Even when they’d fought, when she’d given him the silent treatment, he was a giant nuisance, always nudging himself into her personal space, bumping into her and pretending she was in the way, even when she cut him a wide berth. Whenever they fought, and she attempted to give herself a time-out, away from the sound of his harsh, braying voice and its accusations, he’d follow her throughout the house like a playground bully.
Tonight it didn’t feel any different.
“Ya look good, Tory.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t want to encourage him, but she tried to be polite. “Life looks like it’s agreeing with you.”
“It is. More or less.” Her eyes darted his way briefly, then returned to the stage. Ali wasn’t looking her way yet, too caught up in the song and too busy slaying her audience, hitting every high note like her life depended on it.
I, I, I, I, I should have never ever, ever made you cry
And girl, since, since you’ve been gone
Don’t you know I, sit around, with my head hangin’ down,
And I wonder, who’s lovin’ you…
Victor was still a handsome man, certainly. He was still tall and brawny, and he still wore his long, thick blond hair clubbed back in a ponytail. Ororo used to love to wash it and run her hands through it when they were in the shower. That memory was a bitter one now; she wondered if the woman he left her for enjoyed that privilege.
“I ain’t with Raven anymore,” he said out of the blue, as if reading her mind.
“That’s too bad.” Ororo really wanted to say “I told you so.”
“We wanted different things.”
“Don’t we all.” He sighed.
“Yeah. Guess we do.” His robin’s egg blue eyes studied her thoughtfully. “Ya look thinner.”
“I guess I would. It’s been a while since-“ She stopped herself.
“I know.” He didn’t need her to finish the thought. It still weighed heavily on them both.
“I’m just getting settled into a new office,” she offered, as an olive branch.
“Where?”
“Out of the state. Boston.”
“Shit.” He looked surprised, and slightly disappointed. “Guess that’s why I haven’t seen ya.”
“No. You haven’t seen me because you haven’t seen me,” she countered sourly, finishing her shot. “Not that it should matter, anyway. I needed a fresh start.” She was lying through her teeth, in a sense. She didn’t have to tell him the move wasn’t permanent. All he had to know was that her plans didn’t revolve around him anymore.
Life without love is oh, so lonely
I don’t think, I don’t think I’m gonna make it,
All my love, all my love, yeah, belongs to you only
Come on and take it, girl, c’mon and take it
“Startin’ over again, eh?”
“I’m trying my best.”
“I tried, too. I know ya don’t think so, but I did.”
“Victor-“
“Hear me out.”
“I can’t. I can’t listen to this. You betrayed me,” she pointed out. “That’s a symptom, Victor. That’s not even the full reason we broke up. If you cheated, you weren’t happy. I didn’t make you happy.” Saying the words out loud made her sick.
“That ain’t true, babe.” Then he changed his mind. “It ain’t that simple. I loved ya. Things were weird between you an’ me. And then…we were expectin’ Nate.”
Ororo turned away from him and took a deep breath to compose herself. Their son’s name was a sacrilege coming from his lips.
His large hand took hers very, very gently, only tightening his grip when she tried to pull away.
“I wanted a son more than anything. But I was worried that we were bringin’ him into all the problems we were havin’.”
“I was happy, damn it. I wanted to make things work, and knowing he was coming into our lives made me happy, and made me happy that he was yours, with me!”
“He wouldn’t have fixed what was happening between us.”
“No. But he would have made me stop regretting the day you and I met. At least there would have been a purpose.” There was steel in her voice, but her hand trembled as she reached for her drink. “We would have loved him.
“He would’ve been perfect,” Victor said, and there was a sadness in his eyes that stabbed her, but it didn’t dilute her anger, or the helplessness she felt about so much that had been out of their control. “And there was always a purpose. I know yer pissed, but I know ya don’t mean that.”
“Yes. I do mean that.” She took her hand back and folded her arms to avoid him making any more attempts at even friendly contact.
They sat and listened to Ali finish her song, and Ororo was staring straight ahead when she heard his voice again. Her face was a stony mask.
“Raven wants ta know if there’s any unfinished business between us.”
“Ink’s been dry on the divorce papers for a long time, now.”
“She wants ta know if there’s any feelin’s left that she should know about. That’s why she’s all of the sudden givin’ me space.”
“Because you’re all about needing space, Vic.” She longed to tell him Chickens come home to roost, but she squelched her urge. “Tell her I’m not carrying a torch for you. I have no claim on you or on what we had. She had a hand in killing whatever I used to feel for you, Victor.”
He looked disappointed and relieved at the same time. His touch was fleeting, a brief caress of her shoulder before he got up and left. He even took his empty beer glass with him. Her body felt bereft of his touch, but that part of her that had mourned for him, cried for him when he left her now stood up and cheered and shook her fist.
Memories of how it felt to hold him or to watch him from across the breakfast table or to hear his voice murmuring in the dark before she fell asleep came flooding back.
She reversed the tide and drowned them out with Ali’s songs. By the time the show was over, she was practically marinating in vodka from the drinks she’d already had; her buzz faded to a quiet melancholy.
Ali’s glow from her performance faded slightly as she approached Ororo’s table, but she gave her a tentative smile. “Vic showed,” she pointed out.
“Yeah. He did.”
“It was hell, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Want another drink?”
“Uh-uh.”
“I need one,” she decided. “Just keep me company. Cain?”
“Yeah, babe?” he called back from the bar as he dumped half-empty glasses down the drain.
“Rum and Coke, and one regular Coke.”
“Comin’ up.” He winked at her. She sighed and focused her attention on Ororo.
“I told him I don’t want him back. So why do I feel like shit?”
“It’s how we’re made. We tell ourselves that when something goes wrong, it must be our fault. ‘Why did he leave me? What’s wrong with me?’ But it’s more than that. You like investments.”
“Sheesh,” Ororo muttered, rolling her eyes.
“No. Not just the big bucks. You put a lot of time and effort into Vic. You wanted the payoff and you ended up taking a loss, and it’s hard for you to let it go.”
“So now what, oh wise one?”
“You diversify.”
“You suck at fiscal analogies.”
“You love me anyway.”
“I do.” Ororo nodded to the bar. “So does he.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Hey. I’m just sayin’.”
“We’re just buddies. I don’t like him that way.”
“Okay.” Ororo didn’t argue.
“I mean, we’d never work out. We’re too different. He wants someone he can put on a pedestal.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not into nice guys. Well, I mean guys who are ‘too’ nice.”
“Eeerrgh,” Ororo grumbled under her breath. “Woman, LISTEN to yourself.”
“What?”
“Not too nice? Okay, that’s Vic or Art in a nutshell.”
“They were assholes.”
“We asked for it. We indulged their assholishness.” Ororo was still feeling her shots and waxing philosophical. It felt good. “We stroked their egos. We acted like we didn’t want the nice guy, but let’s face it, Al, we did. We still do. But we say that we don’t because we don’t want to be disappointed when a guy shows his ass in the long run.”
“That’s depressing.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“No. It just sucks.”
“It’s too much fun to chase the dicks. You want to talk about an investment? How about chasing a guy and trying to act like you aren’t chasing a guy?” Their conversation was suspended when Cain brought their drinks, serving them with a flourish. He dropped a cherry into each glass and gave them a silly bow. The gesture looked comical, given his size and demeanor.
“You’re good to me, Cain,” she said with a sigh.
“Whatever yer little heart desires, babe.” His voice held irony and a hint of longing that Ali cheerfully ignored.
He went back to his business. Ororo and Ali mulled their drinks and chatted until the owner reminded them that he needed to lock up.
“So now what?”
“Diversify,” Ali reminded her.
“No junk bonds.”
“Long-term.”
They punned until they laughed themselves hoarse and shared a hunk of cheesecake at Denny’s before they caught a cab home. Ororo was bone tired, but she felt mentally recharged.
[Reviews - 137]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Has been viewed 1884 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | - Text Size +
You must login () to review.
