Game Over

 

 

Many weeks have passed since I did something I thought I was not capable of doing—I sacrificed my happiness for the happiness of someone else. I suppose I now know that true love is indeed selfless, and you’d happily sacrifice your life for the person you love.

Dixon and Finch would be damn proud.

I’ve laid low, needing some downtime, because this concept of being a responsible adult is fucking exhausting. I’m seeing Dixon and Finch tonight because it’s Dixon’s bachelor party. As far as bachelor parties go, I’d have more fun knitting booties with Betty White, but he made me promise to keep it low key. He wanted to get back to our roots and just have a few drinks like the good ol’ days, gossiping like old hens.

I wanted to do something spontaneous, but since Mary left, the only spontaneity in my life is to have gin instead of scotch.

I’m doing okay. Yes, I miss Mary more than words could ever explain, but when Maddy called me and thanked me for whatever I did, I knew that the saying rings true: if you love something, set it free. I can only hope the counterpart is also true: if it comes back, then it was meant to be.

I’ve been tempted to call her, break down her door and demand she give me a second chance, but I too have needed the time apart to figure out how I feel in all of this. Yes, we jumped into the deep end with both eyes closed, but now that she’s gone, nothing has been clearer. I want her back, and this time, no holding back. But I know it doesn’t work that way for everyone, especially women, who are a lot more in tune to their emotions than us guys.

So, I guess, now I wait. It all seems like a cop out, but what other choice do I have?

I’ve not spoken or seen Mary after the final time we made love, which might prove problematic, seeing as the wedding is a couple weeks away. But you can’t force nature, you especially can’t force a redheaded, demon woman. God, I miss her.

With all this time on my hands, I’ve decided to focus my energies elsewhere, because idle hands and all that. Just because I’ve turned over a new leaf with Mary does not mean I’m in line for sainthood anytime soon.

There are two sneaky little fuckers who are in my sights—they just don’t know it. But today is the day, because payback, as they say, is a bitch.

I’m sitting in my newly furnished office, because after the shit that went down in here—literally, I needed to destroy anything that may have been contaminated with Gail’s splooge. I gag at the memory, but when there is a knock on my door, I put my game face on, because things are about to get serious.

“Come in,” I singsong, pretending to busy myself when Keira enters the room.

She’s laid low, not knowing what’s going on, as I’m sure she and Gail believed I would be rocking in a corner somewhere, emotionally and financially ruined. But it’ll take a lot more than two amateurs to beat me.

“Hi, Hunter,” she says, turning on the charm. But her sweet, innocent act won’t fly with me anymore.

But I pretend to be the bumbling idiot she believes me to be. “Hey, sweetheart. How you been? Haven’t seen you in a while. I’ve missed you.”

She closes the door behind her, obviously buying into my bullshit. “I’ve been really busy. Mr. Gail has been working me hard.” The bile rises as I try not to take her comment too literal.

I clench my thighs under the desk, but rein it in because I can’t blow my cover. “Is that a new dress?”

She runs a hand down the stripy dress, which hurts my eyes. “Yes, actually, it is.”

Leaning back in my seat, I cross an ankle over my knee. I take my time in examining her from head to toe, because someone who’s a narcissistic bitch like she is, loves the attention. “You look fucking hot in it. I bet you look even better out of it.” Her chest begins to rise and fall. “Come here.”

She saunters over, ensuring that everything important bounces and wiggles, but I’d rather watch a giraffe striptease than touch this woman ever again. “Come on, I won’t bite.” I pat my lap. “Unless you want me to, that is.” She takes the bait and smirks.

When she’s a few feet away, I stop her, raising my pointer. “Actually, on second thought…strip.”

“W-what?” she stutters, her surprise clear.

“Strip,” I blankly reply. This is getting old fast and I’m running out of time.

“Here?” she questions, looking around the room coyly. She had no issues bumping uglies on my desk, so I know this is once again all for show.

I nod, my gaze never wavering from her. “Yes, here. How can I fuck you if you’re dressed? Do you want me to fuck you? Fuck that pussy? Motorboat those tits? Maybe fuck that tight little ass?” I go for the trifecta ’cause why the hell not?

The aggression turns her on, because I can see her rubbing her thighs together. “Yes. I’ve wanted your cock from the first moment you ate me out.” I shiver at the memory.

Without a second thought, she lowers the straps of her dress and shimmies out of it, drawing out the reveal, attempting to be sexual and seductive. It has the complete opposite effect however, because her slow pace grates on my nerves.

“Those too.” I point to her lacy thong and bra. They soon pool by her feet as well.

In nothing but her heels, my plan is finally set in motion. “Come here, sweetness.” The fact that she’s naked does absolutely zip for my sex-drive. She’s the antidote for raging erections.

She ambles over, her small breasts perky and ready for the picking, but she is about five seconds from picking herself off the floor. “I think it’s only fair…” I say, leaning further back in my seat, enjoying what I’m about to do. “That seeing as you fucked me, it’s time I fucked you.”

She pauses, almost tripping over her black heels, shattering her dream of walking her imaginary runway. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is…why did you do it?”

“Do what?” she asks, but the tremble to her lips reveals she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“My, my, watch your nose grow.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says with bite, finally showing me her true colors.

“Don’t fuck with me, Keira. I’m giving you an opportunity to explain yourself.” Her baby blues are widened, her red lips parted. She’s so sprung. When she attempts to pick up her underwear, I uncross my legs, lean forward, and steeple my fingers under my chin. “You have ten seconds to explain, otherwise I call HR and inform them that you’re not only naked in my office, but you’re also fucking your boss. They don’t take too lightly to office romances around here, especially when you’re fucking half the office.”

She pauses from slipping one leg into her thong. It appears she’s sick of pretences too. “You wouldn’t dare.” I don’t bother answering, but instead pick up the phone.

She reads my seriousness and quickly kicks away her underwear. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Now, I’ll make you a deal. You tell me everything, and I’ll let you leave, unscathed. I’ll forget the fact that you’re a backstabbing, lying she-devil, and you get to leave, scot free.”

She ponders over my offer, no doubt counting how many steps there are to the door, but in the end, she surrenders. “Okay, fine. Can I at least get dressed?” I laugh in response.

When she trembles, I feel a smidge sorry for her, but then I remember she tried to ruin my life. “Aaron told me to seduce you to find out all I could about Mr. Yeong. It was supposed to be easy. With your reputation, this should have been done weeks ago, but what Aaron didn’t take into consideration was that redheaded bitch. She’s your Achilles’ heel.”

I look up at the ceiling, counting to three before I lose my temper. “You speak about her like that again…and our deal is off. Understand?”

She seals her lips, as she knows my threats are not empty. “Aaron told me to keep trying and I did, but I never meant to fall for you, Hunter.”

And the Oscar goes to… “Oh, please, do you take me for a fool?”

“It’s true!” she cries, advancing forward. Looks like Dixon was right after all—I have my own Juliet Harte in training.

I thrust out my palm. “That’s close enough. Stick to the basics. What was in it for you?”

She sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “He said he would split half with me, and you know how much he’s worth. I don’t come from money like you. I’ve had to work hard to get where I am.”

It all came down to money. She had no qualms ruining my life so she could afford the latest threads. I’m beyond disgusted. If she was that desperate for cash, I would have hired her and paid her double.

I can’t help but laugh at her little sob story. “Oh yes, I can see how hard you’ve had to work. Fucking your way up the corporate ladder must require some skill. You sure as shit fooled me.”

“Aaron hates you, and I can see why,” she sneers, her innocent, doe eye act gone. “He figured why not destroy everything you love, because not once did you show him the respect he deserved.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this heartless witch had feelings for the asshole.

“Fuck me,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Gail is angry ’cause I didn’t invite him out to lunch? Tell him to grow some balls and stop being a whiny little bitch. I worked my way to the top fair and square, and the only way Gail could beat me was by cheating. Too bad I’ve always been two steps ahead.”

Keira cocks her head to the side. “What does that mean?”

We’re now in the final innings. “What it means is, call your boss.”

“What?” she gasps, shaking her head violently. “You said you’d let me go. If I told you, you’d let me leave.”

“Well, you’re shit out of luck,” I reply, holding out the receiver.

“You lied.” Tears fall down her cheeks,

“Boo hoo, cry me a river. So did you.” I wave the phone because this isn’t over, not even by half.

In times of crisis, it’s all about self-preservation, and Keira displays just how highly she thinks of herself and the need to survive when she lunges over the table, her lips like tentacles as they attempt to latch onto my face.

I spring up, almost falling onto my ass. I knew this would happen, which is why, you always must have a Plan B—fucking amateurs.

Looking at my watch, the internal countdown commences.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Right on time, the door bursts open and in rages Gail. “You fucking rat…” But his words perish in a flat death when he sees Keira naked in my office.

In his hand, he holds the envelope I asked Frankie the intern to deliver right on 11:53 a.m. It’s now 11:59 a.m. My talent is clearly wasted here, because move over Rick Grimes, there’s a new sheriff in town.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Wow, I can’t believe she’s fucking this dickhole voluntarily.

“Close the door,” I coolly command, while Keira dives for her clothes.

“He knows everything!” she cries, getting dressed.

“Yes, that’s true. Might I add, it didn’t take much to get her to talk.”

Gail looks on the verge of stabbing me with my shiny new letter opener, while I grin, pointing to the two chairs in front of me. “So, this can go one of two ways. You can either do what I say, or…” I tap my finger, pretending to think over option two. There is no other option however. “Or, you can do what I say. Sit.”

“We don’t have to listen to him, Aaron! He’s got nothing. I’ll say he sexually assaulted me if he does!” I yawn, so not amused by her theatrics.

“Shut up, Keira, and just sit down.” Gail eyeballs the living hell out of me. I wish I could take a picture to remember this moment forever. He slumps into the seat; visually commanding Keira to do the same. I actually feel sorry for her because this is what happens when you have daddy issues.

Once they’re both seated, I reach for my glass of scotch and savor the burn. “I see you received my present.”

“Present?” Gail shouts, holding up the envelope. “This is blackmail, you son of a whore!”

I tsk him. “Now, let’s not resort to name-calling. All I require is for you to leave this office for good. I don’t want you anywhere here. Actually, make that Manhattan and all of the surrounding boroughs. This is my kingdom, and if I so much as hear you sniffing around me or my clients, I will expose you for the extortionist that you are.”

“What is he talking about?” Keira asks, turning to look at Gail, who pales.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“On the contrary, I would dare. I double dare.” Keira looks lost in translation, which gives me another idea. Plan C—Jesus, this shouldn’t be so easy. “I spy with my little eye someone’s boyfriend, who is blackmailing half of his clients. Not to mention, dabbling in a little money laundering on the side. Sorry, Keira, but you’re dating a fraud.”

“You put a fucking camera in my office!” Gail bellows, throwing the envelope at my head. Too bad his aim is as shit as his luck. “That’s got to be some invasion of my privacy.” Gail clearly doesn’t appreciate the tape I sent him where he was the star actor.

“Please,” I scoff coolly. “Don’t flatter yourself. Everyone has one. There are creeps out there. This is solid evidence in a court of law.” I repeat Mary’s words with a smile.

This genius plan is in part, thanks to her. It only seemed fitting I bring down these two cheats with her idea. I needed solid evidence that Gail was dirty, but what I never expected to find was what exactly went on behind closed doors.

I have hours of footage of Gail blackmailing his clients, extorting them out of hundreds and thousands of dollars through threats. Instead of working for his clients, he was working against them, scavenging for any small shred of damning evidence he could hold above their heads. His portfolio is a sham.

They only stayed with him because they were afraid he’d reveal their secrets, some of which no multi-billionaire would want the media to know. This is bad, bad press for us if it ever got out. The board would not appreciate one of their senior brokers being involved in a scandal such as this. So, what this means is…Gail is so screwed.

“Is it true?” Keira asks, dreams of living life on the Riviera dwindling to none.

“Yes, it’s true. If you don’t believe me, I’m sure your boss can show you the evidence. There’s hours of footage on there, so you might want to get comfy.” I wave the envelope in case she missed the memo. “Otherwise, I can email you the link,” I reply for him. “The money laundering”—I whistle—“hikes up into the millions. Maybe if you weren’t so greedy, you’d have gotten away with the perfect crime. But you had to fuck me over, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Keira snarls, ready to pluck out Gail’s eyeballs. DING! DING! DING! We have a winner. “You said there was no money. That you were waiting on Mr. Yeong.”

“He has money. A lot of it. None of which was earned honestly,” I add as a sidenote.

I knew this would be her Achilles’ heel. The moment she mentioned money, it really was like stealing a dollar bill from this pathetic baby. Gail’s silence cements his guilt. God, I really shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but the karma train is coming. Choo fucking choo.

“You son of a bitch!” Whack! I felt that smack from over here. “You said you’d take care of me!”

It appears all Keira is, is a status climber. She would clearly latch onto whatever man she could if she thought he would set her up financially. She uses her looks to get what she wants, standing on whomever for self-gain. There is no love, no loyalty. Just greed and lies.

I have no doubt if I showed interest and showered her with gold, she’d be calling me daddy.

Keira stands, crossing her arms over her chest, and glaring something wicked. “Fuck you both! I’m out of here.”

“Keira, baby, wait, I can explain!” Baby? Gail stands, attempting to chase her out the door. Seriously, my devious mind needs its own zip code.

“Not so fast,” I state, because I’m not done with her. She must also pay for what she did to Mary. “The same rule applies to you, Keira.”

“What rule?” she screams, fisting her hair, which hangs from a lopsided bun.

“I’m giving you one chance to leave and never be found. One.” I hold up my finger in case she missed the memo.

“I don’t have to do anything you say. Unlike this asshole, you’ve got nothing on me.”

I wish she’d stop making it so easy for me “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Both their interests are piqued when I tap away on my keyboard and flip around my screen. The image on there is one I have zero need to see ever again, but it proves my point. It also highlights the fact I’m not full of shit.

As Keira is getting rutted into by Gail, I spread my hands out in front of me. “The chairman of the board is a good friend of mine. He has zero tolerance against this sort of horseplay. He also won’t appreciate the fact you broke into my office, Keira, and took something that didn’t belong to you.”

There, she now knows I know everything. I was playing her, just how she played me.

“So, if you aren’t on the first plane back to bumblefuck, then I will be forced to send him a copy if you decide to stay.”

“Fuck you, O’Shea!” Gail rounds my desk, towering over me in an attempt to intimidate me. He’s lucky he’s not copping a swift kick to the balls. “Go on, then, show him. I will explain that we’re in love and that we made a mistake. I’ll take the blame. You’ve got nothing on her. Nothing!”

“My, my.” I press my hand over my heart. “What big teeth you have,” I mock because this jackass makes stupid look like fucking Einstein.

His attempts to backpedal come too little, too late, because if he really cared about Keira, he wouldn’t have dangled her like a carrot off a stick. He walks over to her, rubbing her arm like the big hero that he is. Too bad he’s about to go from hero to zero in seconds.

Not bothering to turn the screen around, I press a few buttons and pull up the footage from earlier—the footage of Keira undressing at my command. Gail pales, while Keira flushes. “He told me to do it!” she pleads, turning to him, begging he see reason.

But the only thing he sees is Keira confessing her need to be fucked six ways to Sunday by yours truly—public enemy number one.

“You were supposed to flirt with him, not fuck him!” he screams, jabbing his pointer toward the screen.

“Oh, shit, really? Well, that just sucks for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snarls, his eyes darting between me and the screen.

So done with this conversation, I stand and brush an invisible piece of fluff from my white shirt. “It means…” I level the playing field, using Keira’s words against her. “I fucked her good.” It’s what she told Mary in the bathroom, so I’m just repeating what she claims to be true.

“How could you?” Gail looks like he’s about to tear up. I pass him a Kleenex.

“He’s lying!” Keira begs as she latches onto his arm. We’re all caught in a web of lies.

“I have no idea what kind of arrangement you have, but whoring out the one you love for your gain is fucking messed up. You should both be ashamed of yourselves,” I say, plotting them against one another. I don’t have to try hard, however.

Keira bursts into tears, while the world comes crashing down for Gail. “Game over, cuntwaffle. You lose. Now get the fuck out my office before I call security. You’re trespassing.”

Gail stands his ground, all huffy and puffy. His arms are out to the side, his chest rising and falling as he decides whether to flee or fight. If he knows what’s good for him, he will pack up his office, change his name, and move far, far away.

“You’ve ruined me,” he states, nostrils flared.

But that’s where he’s wrong. “That shit’s not on me. We all make decisions, good and bad. Let this be a lesson learned.” I can relate to this comment. We all can.

Keira is the first to take the plea deal, knowing this is the best it’s going to get for her. She can now move away to some exotic country and find herself a sugar daddy who won’t know the sins of her past. As she makes a run for the door, I decide to deliver some words of wisdom.

“Keira…” She stops, but doesn’t turn to face me. “Don’t settle. I don’t claim to know or understand what toxic relationships you’ve been in, but if I were you…I’d get a dog.” She yanks open the door and slams it shut, not at all touched by my speech.

Slipping into my suit jacket, I have no idea why Gail is still staring at me. This conversation was done like two minutes ago. “This isn’t over.” If that’s his parting words, then boo hoo for him.

A few more seconds pass with him eyeballing me before he finally leaves my life for good. The moment he’s gone, I take a deep breath, proud of all I’ve managed to achieve. I meant it when I said we’re the master of our own choices, and I could have gone to the board with everything I have and ruined both Keira and Gail for good, but I didn’t. I gave them a choice, and I can only hope they learn and move on.

Everyone deserves a second chance…and that’s called tomorrow. I’m hoping when tomorrow comes, things may look brighter. And that right there, kids, is what adulting is all about. So why do I still feel like dying? Looking at the shelf where the book which is really a camera sits, I thank Mary for once again saving my ass. Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy, and that when tomorrow comes…she’ll put me out of my misery and fucking call.

 

 

“Holy shit. Is that really our best friend, Hunter O’Shea?”

In response, I flip Dix and Finch off. “Eat me.”

I’ve missed these jackasses, but they understood I needed time to get over whatever the fuck this is. How long does it take? I feel like I’m mourning, like someone has fucking died. I have no idea what the timeframe is for this sort of thing, so to dull the pain, I raise my hand, indicating I need scotch and I need it now.

“Have you been working out?” Dix teases as I pull up the barstool beside him. I know I look like shit.

“Have you changed hair product? Wow, there’s so much volume.” I attempt to run my fingers through it, but he dodges my advances. The guy has style, but I still like to give him shit for looking like an Italian playboy.

Before either start with the inevitable “talk,” I reach into my back pocket, producing a bright pink sash. “What’s a bachelor party without shaming the groom?” He doesn’t have time to protest as I slip the novelty over his chest.

Biting my knuckle and sniffing away fake tears, I blubber, “My little boy is all grown up.”

Dix peers down at his sash and bursts into laughter when he sees a picture of a bride and groom. “Game over. Nice,” he says, reading what is written in white letters.

So far, things have gone exceptionally well. Typical of Finch to start the waterworks early. “I’m just going to say it…do you need a hug?” He outstretches his arms, while I throw a coaster at his head.

“Stop with the hugging and the pity party. I’m fine. A-fucking-okay.” Both my friends can go to hell when they sip their drinks, not at all convinced by my below par acting. “Let’s par-tay! Scotch. And two beers, thanks.” The bartender looks at my haggard appearance and nods. We’ve all been there.

I can sense what’s coming even before Dixon opens his mouth. “How you been?”

“Fabulous. Now stop talking and let’s get drunk already.”

I know he wants me to talk about it because all he’s managed to get out of me have been a few apathetic grunts and many fuck offs. But what do I say? I don’t even know how to describe what I’m feeling, because everything hurts and I want to die. A tad overdramatic? Maybe, but life has lost its flavor since Mary left me.

“Cut the bullshit. If this were me, you’d slap me up the side of the head and tell me to snap the fuck out of it.” On cue, he slaps the back of my head.

“Motherfucker! Well, lucky for me, I’m not you then,” I reply, rubbing my scalp.

Once my drinks are set down in front of me, I dive for them like the desperate man that I am. I feel a touch better, but I know once the buzz wears off, I’ll feel like roadkill again.

“Dix is right.”

“Dix is never right,” I counter, while Dixon flips me off.

Finch ignores our banter. “It’s hard to believe that so many nights ago, we sat here, at this exact bar, attempting to get Dixon’s head out of his ass. You can’t blame us for wanting to do the same for you.” When Finch realizes what he just said, he quickly leans forward and apologizes. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Dixon waves him off.

“The difference is I’m fine. I no longer have some she-devil trying to ruin my life, and I shipped Gail off to who gives a fuck. All in all, a good day.”

“Have you spoken to Mary?” And just like that, my speech swan dives into epic fail territory.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Just making conversation,” Dixon replies with a smirk. “Besides, this is payback for being a major pain in my ass. But in saying that, if it wasn’t for you, and you, big fella”—he nudges Finch in the ribs—“I wouldn’t be marrying the love of my life in two weeks. You can choose to clam up, that’s fine, but take it from experience, it won’t get you anywhere. You’ll end up even more miserable than you already are.”

“That’s not possible,” I mumble into my glass. So far, this bachelor party blows ass.

“Hunt, dude, talk to us. No judgment. You can even cry a little if it makes you feel better.”

“Fuck you.” I smirk, hating how well Dixon knows me. I had a weak moment, and now, they’re not going to let it slide.

Tossing back my drink, I reach for my beer, because I need alcohol to deal with these demons. “I fucked up. She fucked up. Bottom line is, we both need to find ourselves or something.” I take a swig, making a pained face. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“See, that wasn’t so bad, right?” Finch attempts to fist bump me, but I shoot him down.

“It’s horrible,” I state, the word vomit slowly rising. I try and cram it down, but it’s useless. “The other day, I cried…at a fucking infomercial.” Dixon almost gives himself whiplash as he turns to look at me, entertained. “Some chick said no one liked her ’cause she had yellow teeth. Her teeth were perfect, but she claimed after she used some charcoal teeth whitener, all the boys asked her out. So it had me thinking, maybe I need this shit. She looks content enough with her glowing smile, surrounded by doting men, maybe I needed some magical potion to make Mary like me again. But now I’m stuck with twelve boxes of this crap which tastes like Satan’s asshole, my teeth aren’t any whiter, and Mary still wants nothing to do with me!”

Finch nods considerately, while Dixon is about to fall off his seat in hysterics. Screw him.

“Oh my god,” he pants, breathing steadily through his mouth as he grips the edge of the bar. “That is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Don’t listen to him, Hunter. The whitener obviously is a metaphor for the void in your heart.”

“And wallet,” Dix counters, still laughing like the asshole that he is.

“Forget it.” I go to stand, feeling like a complete chump.

“Oh, sit your ass down.” Dixon yanks down on my arm, planting me back in my seat. Once he’s semi-composed, he exhales. “Welcome to the real world, my friend. This is what self-sacrifice feels like. True love is selfless and what you did was pretty damn noble. From the small snippets of information you’ve given us, it seems Mary needs to find herself before she can find herself with you.”

“Yes, that’s exactly right!” I almost launch off my chair in excitement. “How long does that normally take?”

“There’s no handbook, Hunt. It may take weeks, months, years, maybe never.”

“Never? But she said she needs time to think, and I’ve given her that. I just…” I pause, pensively rubbing over my chest. “When does it stop hurting?”

Dixon sighs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “In the end, some of your greatest pain become your greatest strengths. You’ve already proven that.”

“But I miss her. A lot.” I peel the label from my bottle, knowing I’m two sips away from breaking down and sobbing on Dix’s shoulder.

“I know, man, but you can’t rush these things. I know you want to call her, croon to Sinatra under her bedroom window, I get it. I’ve been there. We both have.” Finch nods. “But you can’t force this. Give whatever this is—love, friendship, co-existence, time to grow. That’s the only thing you can do to be sure that she’s the one for you.”

“I already know she’s the one for me. But what if I’m not the one for her?” The question tastes like acid, but I needed to ask it.

“Then you move on, buddy. You take this experience and you turn it into something amazing with someone else.”

“I don’t want anybody else. I just want her. The thought of touching another woman has me wanting to cut off my own dick. And you know how attached I am to it.” The flirty bartender places another Budweiser in front of me with a wink. Do I give off a desperate, dateless vibe?

“On the house,” she whispers. It appears so. I barely look at her because the red label reminds me of Mary’s hair.

Dixon chuckles, ignoring the overhelpful barmaid. “This isn’t your average scenario. Most couples break up because the guy does something stupid, but in this case, Mary is just as scared as you are of being happy. Guys are the ones who usually run away, but in your story, it’s Mary.”

“If this is supposed to cheer me up…it’s not working.”

“I know you feel like shit, but I promise, things will get better.” Dixon’s reassurance has me feeling less suicidal.

“You promise? ’Cause if you’re fucking lying, you’ll pay dearly at your real bachelor party. This is just a teaser.” When he opens his mouth, I cut him off. “Just ’cause I’m incredibly moody, possibly going through puberty, and most likely will sob uncontrollably at the drop of a hat, does not mean I’ve forgotten about this rite of passage. It’s going to be epic, and I need epic after…” And cue the tears.

“Okay, dude. I can’t wait.” Fuck, I love this big hunk of man. “But this right here”—he hooks his thumb between Finch and me—“it’s all I want.”

“We’ve come full circle,” Finch says nostalgically. “I can’t believe how far we’ve come. I’m honored to call you guys my best friends.” Finch is trying to kill me. With my emotions running haywire, he can’t say shit like that and expect me not to cry into my beer.

We raise our glasses, toasting to our good fortune of being alive. And the fact Dixon will be a married man in two weeks’ time. “I wish I’d spoken to you sooner about this,” I confess, while Dixon shrugs.

“Don’t sweat it. You live and you learn. I’m only here today because of you two. You both carried me on your shoulders when I didn’t want to get back up. I’ll never forget that. I’ve got your back, brother. Always.”

Finch sniffs, but it’s useless. “Oh, man, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” Dixon draws him into his side.

I once believed that Dixon was the glue that held this threesome together, but I now know we’ve all been the adhesive at one time or another. What we have is an unbreakable bond.

As Dix flags down the bartender, I nudge him with my shoulder. “FYI, you were right.”

“Can I get that in writing?” He smirks, paying for this scotch.

“Keira was a gigantic bitch in the making. Wonder if she consulted McCunty for pointers?”

Dixon’s mouth parts in horror. “Holy shit. Tell me everything.” He orders another round, hinting this is going to be a late night. Maybe this bachelor party won’t suck after all.

 

 

The table is littered with empty glasses, and it’s a sight I’ve sorely missed. I’ve told the boys everything and just like always, they’ve made me feel like me again.

I’m going to once in my life listen to them and give Mary the time she needs. Dixon suggested I take up a hobby to occupy my time. I informed him that annoying him is a pastime which suits me just fine. The liquor is running freely and we’re all in good spirits, reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

We’ve gone through a lot of shit together, and honestly, I’m surprised we’re not in jail or dead. My mind has been Mary-free and it’s been a nice reprieve.

“I need to take a piss,” I very ungracefully state.

Finch nurses his second beer, while Dixon and I have lost count. As I go to stand, I almost fall onto my ass, no surprise there as I passed coordination about five shots ago. Finch and Dix shoot upright, offering me their shoulders, which I happily accept.

Dixon isn’t any help because he’s drunker than I am, but we sway toward the bathroom, laughing at how ridiculous we look. Finch is the navigator, no surprise there, but when he shrieks and suddenly dances in front of me like he’s Patrick Swayze himself, I wonder if maybe someone slipped a mickey into his drink.

“Whatever you’re on, I want some, and now.” Finch ignores me and continues to rhumba in front of me, arms raised and waving frantically in the air. “What in the ever-living hell are you doing? I’m way too drunk to deal with this shit. And I need to piss.”

I attempt to shove past him, but he dives forward and hugs me. “I love you, man.” I look at Dixon, who shrugs.

Finch is holding on tight, veering me back toward the bar and away from the front window. “C’mon, let’s get another drink. I want to get hammered and see some boobies!”

Tonight has just gone from fun to fucking funny. “Okay, dude, I just need to take a…” But the words die in my throat when a flash of red flickers before my eyes. I may be blind drunk, but I’d recognize those copper curls anywhere.

Finch exhales, letting me go. It takes me a second, but I realize what he was doing. He saw Mary walk by first, but why would he think I wouldn’t want to see her? Yes, I’m hurting, but after talking to the boys, I’m in a good headspace.

This is what spurs me to say, “I’m going to say hello.”

“No, Hunt, don’t!” he all but screams, latching onto my arm. It’s too late as I push through the crowd to find her.

It’s a warm night and the sidewalk is bustling, but my six-foot-four frame allows me the height gain I need. I use her trademark red waves as my beacon and push my way through the crowd. Dixon and Finch are hollering behind me to stop, but now that she’s within grasp, the devil is at my heels and I sprint forward, desperate to see her.

It feels like years since I last saw her. My heart beats like crazy, and I suddenly wish I wasn’t so fucking drunk, because my brain and mouth are so not attached right now. “Mary!” I bellow, cupping my mouth with both palms, but she doesn’t turn.

With sheer determination, I excuse myself as I charge through the throngs of people, most of which move off to the side when they see me coming. When she’s a few feet away, I call out to her again. “Shortcake!”

Bingo.

She stops and turns her ear, as if questioning whether she really heard me or not. I clear up any confusion when I race toward her, tapping her on the shoulder. The moment she turns, fucking angels sing and a ray of light shines down from above. It may be a streetlight, but I don’t care because she’s here, standing before me, taking my breath away.

I want to say so many things, but I can’t. I need a moment, because after so many weeks, I feel like my heart has kickstarted back to life. She looks slender, like she’s lost weight, but those killer curves have me salivating, remembering how I traced my tongue over each one. Her long waves are flowing freely, framing her beautiful heart-shaped face. Fuck, I’ve missed her.

“Hunter?” I’ve caught her off guard, as she shakes her head, appearing to only just realize it’s me. A flash of pink darts out to wet her upper lip, and it takes all my willpower not to drop to my knees and worship her like the goddess that she is.

Nothing else matters but telling her how I feel. I know I’ve said it once before, but now, I plan on screaming it at the top of my lungs. I’m not ashamed, because I love this woman with everything that I am and I want everyone to know. Dixon’s advice of giving her time can blow me.

“Mar…” Sadly, my confession gets shot down in flames when someone juts their hand out, drawing attention to the fact that we’re not alone.

“Hunter? I can’t believe it. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” I get doused with an icy cold bucket of ‘what in the ever-living, fucking hell is going on.’

Standing in front of me is a Kung-Fu god. He could easily be related to Bruce Lee, because he has the movie star looks and a body made of pure granite. I’ve never seen this dude before, but Mary’s reddening cheeks reveal that she has.

There must be some mistake. In my alcoholic state, I must be hallucinating. I rub my eyes to make sure. But when he’s still here, palm still extended, waiting to shake the loser’s hand, I know this is real.

They’re both dressed nicely, probably because they just finished up with dinner, maybe a movie, and now they’re going back to someone’s apartment to do unspeakable nasties with the other while I go home to cry into my pillow.

Ripples of anger roll over me and I get ready to throw down. “Who the fuck are you?” I slap his hand away, as I have no intention shaking it. Now or ever.

“Hunter!” Mary snaps, quickly apologizing for my behavior, but this is only the tip of the iceberg. I lunge for him, ready to tear off his head and play lacrosse with it.

“C’mon, man, walk it off.” Dix is at my back, dragging me away, but I shrug him off.

“You’ve heard so much about me? Funny that, because I’ve never heard of you. I should feel honored Mary mentioned me at all, I mean, it’s been radio silence on her end for weeks…now I know why.”

She glares at me, but fuck this. She was supposed to be clearing her head, finding herself, all of that Oprah shit, but now I see she was only finding some other sucker to play head games with.

“Dixon, take him home. He’s drunk,” she spits, gently tugging on her admirer’s arm. The simple touch ignites a wrath so manic, I act before I can think this through. My heart is broken—what do I care if my arm is too?

With a warrior cry, I charge forward, fists swinging, and hook the motherfucker right in the jaw. Mary screams at me to stop, which only incites me to hit him again. The impact doesn’t alleviate my pain or anger, so I attempt to strike him once more. My lucky streak is over with however, because my initial thought of him being a martial arts god wasn’t too far off the mark. He bends low and fucking karate chops my neck, which drops me to the ground, winded and clutching my throat.

Finch drops to his knees, asking if I’m okay, but when I hear Dixon cry, “You motherfucker!” I know in about three seconds, he’ll be tending to both our wounds. I underestimated Bruce Lee Junior, because it only takes him two. Dixon drops to the ground beside me, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Oh my god! He broke your nose!” Finch exclaims, paling.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dixon mutters from around his cupped hand. “I’m fine.”

Finch however, is anything but fine because he goes from white to green to gray before my eyes. “Wow, it’s so red. Blood is red. Blood…”

“Shit!” both Dixon and I shout, lunging forward to catch Finch, because he just fainted. I totally forgot he’s squeamish.

“Finch!” I hoarsely say in barely a whisper, because I’m still attempting to retrieve my windpipe from the pavement. I slap his cheeks. “Fuck, he’s out cold.” Dixon rips off his sash and uses it as a makeshift pillow to place under Finch’s head.

This would be fucking hilarious if it was happening to anyone other than me, but thanks to my recklessness, my two best friends look like roadkill. Some best man I am.

“I’ll get a cab.” As Mary attempts to hail a taxi, I thrust out my palm.

“No, you’ve done enough. Just go.” Lifting my eyes to meet hers, I squash down the need to console her because I know I’ve just hurt her feelings. This isn’t tit for tat, but she fucking destroyed me the moment she gave me a taste of something that was always going to be out of my reach.

“Hunter…”

“I said go, Mary.” A crowd has formed, and I know the NYPD aren’t too far away. Her poignant eyes glisten with tears, but she’s made her choice, and I’ve made mine.

“Looks like some things never change.”

“Looks that way, although the same can’t be said for the men you welcome into your bed.” Her mouth parts, as I’ve just offended her, but she’s not just offended me, she’s ruined me.

I know when she leaves because that emptiness returns.

In the cab ride back to my apartment, with Dixon and Finch by my side, I can’t help but wonder if this is what closure feels like, because if it is…it can blow me.

“I’m sorry for being the world’s suckiest friend,” I say to Dixon. Finch is slouched in a comatose ball, probably regretting the day he met me.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” The fact Dix looks like he just massacred an entire village only cements my point. “You did just see…”

But I wave him off, not wanting to talk about this ever again. “I needed to see what I saw, man. I need to move on and accept this for what it was.”

“And what was that?”

“Something that was bound to end in tears,” I conclude.

Dixon sighs, moving his mouth from side to side. “At least you know.”

I nod, wishing like hell that throat punch knocked me out cold. “I know I wasn’t wired for this relationship shit, and I was stupid ever believing that I was. I thought this was amicable, that we were on the same page. What a fucking idiot I am.”

“Hunt…”

But I’m done talking. “From now on, I forget about Mary. I thought our break-up”—I can’t help but air quote our sham—“was anti-climatic, but now I know the reason is because we weren’t ever really together. If we were, she wouldn’t be so quick to replace me. The thought of touching another woman makes me sick, but it seems you’re right, Dix.”

He waits for me to continue.

“Mary did run away and I guess now…it’s time I do the same.”

Now is the time Dixon would reprimand me for giving up, but when he remains tight-lipped and gives me a manly hug, I know it’s time I stopped moping and take a page out of Mary’s book and move the fuck on.