Nat called me last night as I was on my way home from The Grind. I wasn’t in the mood to play nice, in spite of the fact it’s been days since I’ve had sex. I’ve been avoiding her. It was time to put an end to whatever this was that we were doing. My admission to Rob wasn’t an excuse to get out of being set up. I need to stay focused, and the opposite sex would be a major distraction, right now. Whether it’s Nat or Ella, or anyone else that Andrea pulls out of the woodwork. So I agreed to see Nat with the intent of ending it once and for all. By the time I got home, she was already waiting for me, sitting on my front stoop.
On our way up to my apartment, I had gotten the text from Andrea. It may have been shitty of me, but I decided to call Ella while Nat sat on my couch. Selfishly, I thought it could initiate a conversation that needed to be had. I was right. The minute I hung up the call, Nat pounced.
“Who the hell is Ella?”
Her question pissed me off. I owed her no explanation. Just because she decided to change the dynamics of our relationship didn’t mean I needed to suddenly agree.
Ignoring her question, I instead cut to the chase. “Nat, this isn’t working for me. I’m starting a new case, and I need to be completely focused on my job.”
“Is the new case called Ella?” she asked sarcastically.
“Not that I need to explain, I’ve never given you a reason to think we were exclusive. Ella is a friend of Andrea’s.”
“Well, that explains a lot. Andrea hates me. Are you seeing her?”
Part of me wanted to say yes, just to get rid of Nat. But in spite of my need to distance myself from her, she’s always been a good friend. Until recently, she was easy to talk to and easy to get along with. I’m not sure what’s going on that’s causing her to be so possessive and jealous.
She kept throwing question after question at me. I didn’t respond to one of them. She had no rights to know my business, and by responding that would be an admission that she did have a right.
“Natalia, I think you should go,” I finally said.
She couldn’t hide the look of defeat that crossed her features. She came to stand before me, took my hands in hers, and said, “Ben, I know you and I have always had an unconventional relationship. I was hoping when the time came that you were ready for a real relationship, it would be with me. I care about you, but I deserve better than this. I’m ready to take it to the next step, and it hurts that you aren’t. I think we could’ve been good together.” She leaned up on her toes and gave me a long hard kiss on my lips. When she pulled away, a few tears escaped. “I’ll miss you.”
The combination of her words and the sorrow in her eyes gave me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I quickly looked away for fear I would cave in once again. I could easily see myself agreeing to keep seeing her due to nothing but the guilt she made me feel at that moment.
Guilt is my fucking kryptonite.
I never met her eyes, not even after she hugged me briefly, or after she kissed me one last time before leaving my apartment.
I should have never left. I should have never left.
It’s all I repeated in my mind over and over. Even after finding my parents lying on the floor, covered with sheets. Even after my brother cried in my arms. Even after listening to his recount of the events that occurred that would forever change his life and mine.
I was plagued with guilt, sadness, and regret. I should have never left.
After my dad had been arrested on a DUI, he was then convicted of possession with intent to sell. He served one year. Life had become peaceful and calm for my mother, brother, and me. I hate to admit my dad’s absence was a blessing.
I decided to attend community college, abandoning my original plan of moving away to New York City. I majored in law enforcement, deciding that was the path I wanted to take. My mom and brother needed me. While at home, I assumed the role of little league coach and chauffeur to Jonathan. We’d become even closer during that time. Mom continued to work hard, but still maintained a strict, respectful household.
When Dad was released, my mom threw him out of the house. He didn’t even argue. He packed his things and left. He thought so little of us that he didn’t even feel the need to say goodbye. Jonathan couldn’t understand it. He thought, we both thought that he would’ve missed us being away for that year. Jonathan thought he did something to cause our father to cut us from his life. No matter what I said to comfort him, he still believed it was his fault. To a thirteen-year-old boy, it’s perfectly logical to believe your mischief is what caused your father to walk out the front door.
One month to the day of his release from prison, he returned. I was out, hanging out with friends, being a normal college kid. Dad said that he came back for something he left behind. My mother let him in.
While Jonathan slept in his room, my father shot my mother and then himself.
The guilt still cripples me, even after all these years.
I should have never left.
I hate weekends. Too much down time to mess with my head. Farley warned that we’d be working on a lot of them, and said to enjoy the time as we have it. I wish we could dive right in right now.
We could be using the time to study the facts, but Rob is busy proposing to Andrea. He planned this weekend weeks ago. I doubt she’ll be surprised, as she’s been expecting it on every occasion for the past year. Her ability to predict his moves is what has him proposing on an ordinary Saturday in May. Without warning, he’s going to drop to one knee. He doesn’t know if it will be in their apartment, or while food shopping, or maybe even while they go for a walk on the beach. He feels since he won’t know when that exact moment will be, there is no way Andrea could predict it.
Marriage.
Why is it necessary? If you happen to find that “one” person you can’t live without, why does everyone require a piece of paper to say they are now officially the “one” person you can’t live without?
I feel two people can be completely committed, completely loyal to each other without the need to sign a contract. Contracts are manmade and easily broken.
Look at my parents.
If they had never met, married, and pledged to love and honor until death, where would they be now? Would Dad have found a wealthy girl to marry, eliminating all the angst being poor caused him? Would Mom have found the man who would cherish her like she was a precious gift?
Who the fuck knows?
From their union, the only positive thing that resulted was Jonathan.
After that night, my brother was forced to grow up quickly. Aunt Beth essentially dropped her life, moved into our home to raise her sister’s son. After a few years, she practically pushed me out of the house. She said I needed to go. She convinced me that she and Jonathan would be just fine. I wonder if I hadn’t listened, where would I be at the moment? I’d probably be a small town cop, hating my existence, just as my father did.
Regardless, I carry a tremendous amount of guilt for having left Jonathan behind with our aunt. All these years later, I still carry it. It didn’t damage my relationship with Jonathan. He still looks up to me, respects me, and loves me with all his heart. I don’t feel I deserve it because I left him.
I shouldn’t have left.
It’s early here in New York, but that doesn’t stop me from picking up my phone to call my little brother.
“What the hell, dude?” he says groggily over the line.
“Sleeping?”
“It’s like five o’clock on a fucking Saturday. Of course, I’m sleeping.”
“You’re a busy law student. I need to pick my opportunities. How’s UCLA?” I hear shuffling over the phone, some moaning, and a female whining. “I’m guessing it’s awesome.” I openly laugh at my brother’s active sex life. “Who’s the chick?”
“We were studying.”
“Is that what they call it these days? I called it hooking up.”
“Screw you, you’re one to talk. How’s Nat?”
“Over.”
Now Jonathan openly laughs at me. I hear my brother shut a door. “Damn, that’s a shame. She was hot, a real keeper.”
“How would you know from a few pictures?”
“I could tell. I’m observant like that.” After a short pause, he asks, “How’s work?”
“It’s fine.” I purposefully omit the latest development with the Politto case. My brother isn’t thrilled that I’m a cop in New York. He’s especially not thrilled that I chose narcotics to specialize in.
“Have you called Aunt Beth?”
“You obviously know the answer if you’re asking,” I respond impatiently. He asks me every goddamn time we speak.
“She misses you, man.”
I predictably choose not to respond to Jon’s comment.
Whenever I speak to my aunt, I get a painful stab in my chest from guilt. She dropped her entire life to help her nephews. She left her boyfriend, Theo, behind to move into our home. She raised Jonathan when it should have been my job to do so. Speaking to my aunt causes me nothing but pain from the guilt. Not speaking to her causes the guilt I carry to fester.
“Ben, stop beating yourself up. What happened affected you, too. You had your future ahead of you. Besides, I turned out just fine.” He laughs before adding, “Hell, I’m a very handsome dude who happens to be brilliant as well.”
“That you are, bro. I’ll let you get back to sleep or back to your studying. Be good.”
“Always.”
I stare at the phone once he disconnects. It’s early, but Beth would be up. I scroll through my contacts to stare at her name and number. As if my thumb has a mind of its own, it pushes the cancel button before the call connects. Maybe later.
One of Politto’s many ventures are gyms called Social Workouts. He owns three in the city. The first is right here in my neighborhood, blocks away from my apartment. I’ll pretend I want in and take a good look around. The place is fairly busy for a Saturday afternoon. It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be. In fact, it’s massive.
Mob money. Spare no expense. State of the art equipment, all the conveniences of home, Internet access included, the amenities are only part of the draw for this place. The other part is the mix between a workout and a dating scene.
Of course, the two should meld. This is exactly the place one would come to pick someone up.
After a mental eye-roll, I walk toward the reception desk to start this charade. The dude behind the desk gives me a once over before plastering a smile on his face.
“How can we help you?”
“I’m looking for a new workout. Heard good things.”
He flashes a dazzling white smile. “You heard right. I’m Nole. Welcome to Social Workouts. We do have a waiting list, but while on it we supply three complimentary visits, so our members are fully versed in the Social Workout experience.” He bends to retrieve a brochure. “This details all the advantages of why you should choose SW as your place to a healthily-ever-after.”
Is this ass for real?
“Thank you.”
He passes me a clipboard. “Just fill this out, and I’ll have someone come by to give you a tour.” He then hands me three stickers. “Wear one of these on your shirt whenever you’d like to use your free day pass. You can use them anytime in the next month. If you haven’t heard back on the status of your membership by then, let us know, and we can work out an extension.”
“Sounds great,” I say in my best radio announcer voice. Nole misses the sarcasm and smiles wider.
“Take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”
I follow his instruction, looking around as I wait for this guided tour. In the far left corner, a stunning brunette is sparring on the martial arts mat. Her cropped sports bra and her skin tight knit shorts leave nothing to the imagination. With every move, her toned abs flex, revealing a feminine version of a six-pack. Her ponytail shoots out of the top of her sparring helmet, revealing her long, graceful neck. Even with the safety equipment that she needs to wear, she still looks sexy as fuck.
I haven’t thought about her once since last speaking to her. By just seeing her across the room, I can distinctly remember the smell of her perfume. I remember how smooth her skin felt right below her ear, and it causes my lips to twitch.
I continue to watch, mesmerized. Just as I predicted, watching Ella sparring is as hot as I thought it would be. Actually, it’s even hotter. She dishes out more than she takes. The woman she is sparring with is physically bigger, yet Ella handles her like a rag doll. There are a few curious patrons standing around the perimeter of the mat, watching the two women working out. Most are men, and most are staring as unabashedly as I am. It makes me want to stake a claim to her and tell them to all fuck off.
After a few more minutes, they meet in the center and bow. Ella removes her helmet and smiles while offering a hand out to her partner. A few words are exchanged, and she then moves to the edge of the mat, grabbing a towel to pat down her glistening skin.
I quickly look over at Nole. Taking advantage of the fact he’s on the phone, I beeline toward the mat. Her back is to me as she chats with her partner. The redhead looks over Ella’s head to acknowledge my presence. Ella turns, and the smile falls right off her face.
“Are you following me?”
I can’t help but laugh. “No. I’m checking this place out. I live around the block.” She rolls her eyes at my response. “What part of what I just said offends you the most?”
“I’m just so thrilled with the realization that we live in the same neighborhood.”
“Is this your gym?”
“For now. Our firm represents the owners. Perk of the job.”
Andrea’s firm is representing Politto? I wonder if Rob knows. Keeping that bit of information to myself, I nod and ask, “If I decide on it, maybe you can show me your Taekwondo skills.”
Ella grabs her water bottle and says, “Sure. I’d love the opportunity to kick your ass.” She smirks and walks away, leaving me smiling and very turned on.