- Sebastian -
I wished I could blame the gin for my lousy productivity that afternoon, but I knew it was seeing Lily that had knocked me for six.
I couldn’t stop wondering how long she’d been so close. That restaurant, for example. I went to The Atrium with Dave almost every Friday. Had she been there before under the same roof? Christ, there had been days I’d wondered if she was still even under the same sky.
The last time I saw her was as fresh in my mind as the pain I felt when I learned she’d skipped town.
We’d gone to Johnny Rockets for milkshakes and split an order of fries. She was in a red and white gingham sundress. I remember because I always thought she looked amazing in red.
I’d felt her up and sucked the delicate skin on her neck in the alley near our street on the walk home. I remember how she’d pressed her hips against my hard-on and teased my tongue with hers. I would’ve lassoed the moon for her back then.
Growing up, my dad used to tell the story of how he proposed to my mom the same night he met her. According to the tale, he crashed a mixer at the community college she was attending and fell for her at first sight. After dancing and talking all night, he proposed.
She’d laughed at him, said something like I’ve heard guys will say anything, but that’s a new one. He said he’d ask her every day until she realized he was serious. Two weeks later, she said yes, either to shut him up or because she finally believed him.
As a teenager, I felt the same way about Lily, but I was too young to propose. I had nothing to offer her then apart from my undying love and an enviable collection of Tarantino DVDs.
Still, I went to great lengths to convince her that I was the person she could always turn to, the person she could trust with anything. Too bad I didn’t do a better job. If I had, things might’ve turned out differently.
Like they were supposed to.
I pushed open the door to my condo and threw my keys in the silver bowl to my left. Tiffany’s tacky dance music was blasting down the hall, and based on the humidity in the air, I figured she’d probably spent the last hour in the shower.
Eager to crack a beer and put my feet up, I loosened my tie and headed to the kitchen, but when I was just steps from the fridge, an open magazine on the butcher block caught my attention. The top of the page read: Who’s your Celebrity Engagement Ring Muse? One of the hands was circled with permanent marker. An arrow had been drawn beside it as well, in case the message was too subtle.
It was sort of flattering, I guess, despite the fact that the word marriage had never so much as crossed my lips in Tiffany’s company.
Yet the magazine was the least of my worries. A mere foot away, two short lines of coke had been racked up, presumably with the credit card bearing her name beside them.
I swept the lines into my hand and dumped them down the sink before continuing my search for beer. I was staring into the fridge when I heard her voice behind me.
“What the fuck, Sebastian? Did you do those?”
I grabbed a Stella and swung the fridge door shut. “Do what?”
“Those lines that were just here?” She was in her underwear, but her hair and face were red-carpet ready.
“You told me you were going to quit.”
She craned her neck forward. “I am.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Eventually.”
I popped the cap off my beer and dropped the opener back in the drawer.
“Seriously, what did you do with it?”
“You don’t need that stuff.” I tilted the bottle against my lips, letting the delicious liquid cool my throat.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you take them? Just tell me.”
“I didn’t take them,” I said. “I dumped them down the sink.”
She ran to the sink like I’d mistreated sentimental earrings, letting out an obnoxious groan when she realized the stuff was long gone. “Why do you have to be such a narc?”
I hated that word and she knew it. “Why do you have to be such an addict?”
“I’m not an addict.”
“You’re acting like one.”
She rolled her eyes and stomped down the hall.
“My day was great, anyway, thanks for asking.” I took another sip of beer.
“That makes one of us.” She appeared again and proceeded to rack up a line on the counter.
“I don’t want that shit in my house.”
“Well I don’t want SportsCenter on my TV all the time, but I put up with that.”
“It’s not your TV.” I looked away when she bent down to do the line.
“Don’t be like that,” she said, righting herself and flicking her nose. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal, and I don’t want you doing that around the house. And by yourself, for Christ’s sake. It’s fucked up.”
She walked up to me and trailed a finger up my shirt. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“I want to break up.”
Her face twisted. “Don’t be so dramatic. I get it, okay? No more coke in the house. Whatever.”
My eyes dropped to her ass as she walked away—or at least, what was left of it. Her curves seemed to be shrinking in direct correlation to her expanding coke habit, a habit I had no idea was so severe when we first got together. Sure, it was the party drug of choice in the circles we traveled in, but I didn’t think she was a fiend for the stuff.
And I did want to break up. Not just because of the coke, but because her new pastime of dropping hints about marriage was sucking a lot of the fun out of our casual relationship.
I leaned in the bedroom door and eyed the pile of dresses on the edge of the bed.
“Do you want to come out for a bit?” she asked, pulling another from the closet.
“Who are you going out with?”
“Tracey and some of the other girls from this week’s shoot.”
Most of the guys I knew would jump at the chance to drink Dom with a bunch of models, but I hated the way Tiffany acted around them. Like she was dumber than she was. “No, thanks.”
She wiggled into a body-hugging purple dress that barely reached two inches below her ass. “Zip me up?” she asked, making big eyes at me before turning around.
I set my beer on the dresser and slid her zipper up after she pulled her hair out of the way.
She spun around and made a kissing noise without pressing her lips to mine. God forbid she smeared her lipstick.
I drank silently as she crammed shit in the world’s smallest purse while making no move to do anything about the heaping pile on the end of the bed.
Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to be done, it didn’t seem right to mention breaking up again. Not then. Not when she was on drugs and hoping to have a fun night.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come out?” she asked, cocking her head.
“I’m sure.”
“Call me if you change your mind.”
I nodded.
“And I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, batting her false lashes. “I’ll make it up to you if you wait up.”
“Oh yeah? How do you plan on doing that?”
She rose up on her toes so I could feel her warm breath on my ear. “By sucking your dick until you pass out.”
I put my hands on her shoulders and leaned back to look at her. “Tiff.”
“What?” she asked, searching my eyes.
“Make it up to me by getting home safe.”