CHAPTER 14

JUNK PUNCHES

MIRYAM

I’m sitting in my office with the door closed, running my finger across my lips. I don’t even know who I am right now. I signed a napkin begging Ben to kiss me. The napkin wasn’t begging, but my brain sure was. I didn’t know a person could be kissed like that. This is the second time he’s kissed me where I could feel it through my whole body. If his lips can do that, what can the rest of him do? I don’t need to think about that at work.

There’s a tap on my door and then it opens. My assistant sticks her head in.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re flushed.”

She would be flushed, too, if she got her soul kissed right out of her.

I tap a stack of papers on my desk to straighten them. “I’m fine. It was just a little stuffy in here.”

She walks all the way in with a massive stack of papers in her hand. “I hate to ask, but the Butlers’ new attorney wants hard copies off all the depositions because he’s being a giant dick. My kid just puked at daycare, so I have to leave. Do you have time to toss these in the copier? I’ve already called the courier.”

“Of course! Go take care of your little one.” I hate those attorneys who think making copies is beneath them. I can’t focus on any of my actual work today, anyway, so I might as well do something productive.

She exhales loudly. “You’re the best! I hope you’re not coming down with what she has.”

I stack the papers in my hand again. “No, I’m sure that’s not what I have.”

She plops her stack on the corner of my desk and trots to the door. “See you tomorrow!” she calls over her shoulder.

I pick up the papers and walk to the copy room. I really want to call this attorney and tell him to sit on a rake. No one gets hard copies couriered to them in this day and age. But, this case has been a nightmare. This is the plaintiffs’ fourth attorney. He’s probably working for free. I’d rather get this case settled before my client runs out of money to pay me.

The door to the copy room is closed, which is weird. It gets so hot in there that we always keep the door open. I turn the handle and go in.

“What do you want me to fucking do about it?”

I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but I do. David is almost yelling at his assistant, What’s-Her-Name. Must be trouble in paradise. She’s in his face; her posture is rigid. I hope she’s telling him she gave him an STD. That’s petty, but I still hope.

“I want you to fucking take care of the problem you created! What is so hard for you to understand?”

Oh, she’s pissed.

“What I don’t understand is how you have to nag me all the time until I want to blow my goddamn brains out!”

I would kill for some popcorn right now.

“Nagging you? You think I’m nagging you?” She jabs him in the chest with her finger right where his heart would be if he had one. “Telling you to fix your mistakes is not nagging you! Fix it! Now! Or I’m done!”

She turns, probably to storm out, but I’m standing in the doorway right where she’s headed. Shit.

“I didn’t mean… I just came in to… copies.” I walk the rest of the way in and go straight to a copier. The homewrecker storms out. David stands there. I can feel him looking at me. This is so awkward. I put all the pages in the feeder and it jams on the first sheet. Because of course it does.

“I think you put too many pages in there.” He reaches around me and hits the red button on the top. “Here, let me help.” His voice is much softer than it was a second ago.

He fixes the jam, takes one-third of the pages off the top and puts them back in the feeder.

“There. That should work now.” He hands me the rest of the pages.

I can’t even look at him. “Appreciate it.”

He hasn’t moved and he’s way too close to me. “Hey, Miryam, I was wondering if maybe we could go somewhere after work to talk.”

What in the…

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I pretend to be inspecting the copier for any potential jams.

“I’d love a chance to sit down and talk to you.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve made a huge mistake and I need to make it right. Please?”

I move to the side so his hand drops off my shoulder. What is he asking? Clearly he made a huge mistake with Nutjob Nagger over there. That’s plain to see. I don’t want David back, do I? No, that’s ridiculous and the single stupidest question my brain has ever asked. The toner fumes must be causing a short circuit in my cranium.

I turn and look him in his cheating eyes. “No, I’m not interested in sitting down with you, David. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of copies to make.”

He steps back and lifts his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. We’ll catch up later.” He slithers out of the room.

I’ve got to find a new firm. Working with him and the inevitable drama isn’t sustainable. I decide to leave early because this day is shot. I step off the elevator on the second level of the parking garage. I hold my keys by the pepper spray attached to them. Parking garages always give me the creeps. I’ve seen too many movies and read too many stories.

“Miryam, wait!” a voice calls from behind me.

I almost jump out of my skin. I turn around to see David jogging up to me. I think about pepper spraying him out of spite.

He stops in front of me. “I really need to talk to you.”

“And I distinctly remember telling you no.” My adrenaline is through the roof after that scare. My body is ready to drop a motherfucker.

“I made a huge mistake.” He talks like he hasn’t heard a word I said.

“That much we can agree on. But I’m never getting back together with you. It’s not happening.”

He shakes his head. “Get back together with you? What are you talking about?”

Oh, now he hears me.

“Your huge mistake that you want to talk to me about. We are never going to be a couple again. Ever. I need you to understand that.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, not a problem there. My mistake was not getting my grandmother’s engagement ring back from you before you moved out. I need that back now. Can you bring it with you tomorrow?”

He did not…

If I ever have to testify about this day, I will swear on a bible that I blacked out and don’t remember a thing. In reality, I will forever remember balling up my fist and punching him right in the dick. I’ll remember the girlish sound he made. I’ll remember the thud of his body dropping to the pavement.

I drive back to my house on a complete high. The likelihood that I’ll ever have repercussions from that dick punch are slim. He’ll never tell anyone I punched him in the dick. He’d die first before admitting a woman got the drop on him and his precious junk.

I call Sheba the second I walk in my door. She’s on a business trip and I don’t even ask her if she has time to chat. I just launch into my story.

“Motherfucking yes!” she screams. “This punch I approve! That douchebag should have his scrotum punched up through his throat. Did he look like he might die or at least be permanently scarred? Please say yes.”

“I didn’t stay to assess the damage. I left him on the ground and drove off. I wonder if building security would let me have the tape as a keepsake.”

“This is the most beautiful conversation we’ve ever had. I have actual tears in my eyes. I’m so proud of you.”

I put her on speakerphone so I can change my clothes. “I wish I had seen who he really was sooner.”

“Miri, I think you did. Why do you think it took you so long to pack up your house before moving in with him? I think part of you knew he wasn’t right for you then. I think you saw it before the rest of us did.”

That’s something to think about. “You’re really smart sometimes, you know that?”

“I’m really smart all the time. I keep telling you that.”

I curl up on my bed in my shorts and T-shirt. “Why can’t you be in town today? I don’t want to be alone.”

“There is someone else you can call. Someone who kisses a lot better than I do.”

She might be on to something.

“I’ll call him, but only because you’re twisting my arm.”

“Uh huh. Definitely do everything I would do. And use a condom.”

I hope she can hear me roll my eyes. “Good-bye, Sheba.”

I click on Ben’s contact in my phone and stare at the picture my aunt took. I have feelings for this guy. Feelings I shouldn’t have. But, I just punched an attorney and I’m calling a hooker to come console me, so I’m the newest representative from Opposite Land. Nothing makes sense anymore.

I click on his number and hope he picks up.

“It’s my favorite connoisseur of pistachio ice cream. Hello.”

“Hi. Do you have time to talk?” I give him the courtesy I didn’t give Sheba. She’s known me longer, though.

“I do. What’s up?”

“I need to ask you a favor.” I’m still keyed up from the parking garage scare and then junk punching an asshole. I don’t have time for pride. “I need you.”

He’s silent for a beat too long. I tug at the hem of my shirt. I don’t like this at all.

“You need me, or you need me pretending to be David?”

I let out a long breath. For once, that’s an easy one.

“I need you.”

“Text me your address and I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Thank you.”

I don’t have much to clean up. It’s just me here and half my stuff is still in storage because it doesn’t fit in this apartment. I’d like to buy a house closer to my grandma, but I’ve recently spent a good chunk of the proceeds from my house sale on deceiving said grandma. I wonder how many more bad decisions I’m going to find in hindsight.

There’s a knock on my door around the time I’m expecting Ben. I look through the peephole, though, because I’m not about to become a statistic. Ben stands on my doorstep. So much has changed since the last time he stood there.

I open the door and let him in. I immediately notice a strange windowless van parked on the street. All my senses are on high alert and I’ve never seen that van here before.

I turn my attention back to Ben. “Thanks for coming. Did you see that creepy rape van when you parked?” I point to it behind him in case he can’t see the only white van in the parking lot.

He looks where I’m pointing. “Oh, that’s my rape van.”

“What?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t use it for raping; I use it for work.”

“You drive a van?” My brain doesn’t want to accept any more unanticipated information.

He folds his arms. “Are you not going to allow me inside if I drive a van?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” I step out of the way so he can come in. “I’ve always seen you in fancy cars, so I thought that’s what you drove.”

He smiles. “No, I drive a company van. It gets terrible gas mileage. It’s impossible to find parking. But, it’s a total chick magnet, as you can see.” He winks at me.

That makes me laugh. He’s not wrong. I’m sort of seeing a guy who drives a van. Yet another thing I never pictured myself doing. I reach up on my toes and press my mouth to his. He responds by putting his arms around me and sliding his hand under my shirt to the small of my back. His hand almost spans the full width of that area, and I find myself again wondering if there’s a direct correlation to the size of other parts. I am such a pervert.

Our lips part and he hugs me to his chest.

“Not that I’m not happy you called, but are you okay?”

I groan. I almost forgot why I asked him over. “Yes. David and I had it out today and I punched him in the dick. I didn’t want to be alone.”

He pulls back and holds me by the shoulders. “You punched him in the dick?”

That must sound even worse to a man. I nod.

He hugs me back again and kisses the top of my head. “Well then thank you for only punching me in the face. Jesus. In his dick? Really?”

“Yep.”

I’m being the worst hostess. “Do you want to sit down? Do you want anything to drink? Have you eaten?” I veered from hostess to mother somewhere in the middle there.

He walks over to my couch and sits down. “I wouldn’t say no to ordering a pizza. I haven’t eaten all day.”

I walk to my kitchen and pull out a menu. “You good with cheese or veggie pizza?”

“Cheese, please.” He looks damn adorable when he smiles.

I place the order and sit next to him, curling my feet under me.

His pocket buzzes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, scowls, and clicks a button. He sets it on my coffee table. It buzzes again a second later. My curiosity gets the best of me.

“I’m not trying to pry, but who’s Devil Bitch?” I couldn’t help but notice the name on the screen.

He runs his hand over his face. The phone buzzes again with the same name lit up across the top. He hits the power button and turns it off. “It’s Stephanie. She’s a little pissed I quit and won’t stop calling.”

“You quit working for Stephanie?” He says it so nonchalantly. Like it’s not a huge damn deal. Is he not sleeping with random people anymore? This is a game-changer. I want to shout all my questions at him, but I don’t want to scare him.

He lies his head against the back of my couch and closes his eyes. “Yeah, I did. It wasn’t what I thought it was going to be and I didn’t want to be the person I was becoming.”

“So you quit? Just like that?” There’s a not so tiny part of me that wants to know if he quit for me. But that’s dumb. He hasn’t even known me that long. I’m being stupid.

He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Just like that. I have a lot more going on in my life and I don’t need to waste time with people who don’t really want my company.” He strokes his fingertip across my shoulder. “I’d rather spend it with people I like.”

I feel the heat rush to my face. I hope he can’t see how he’s affecting me. His answer jogs a memory, though.

“Is that why you were so anxious to get out of the bar mitzvah that day? You wanted to spend time with… someone important?” I can’t bring myself to ask if he has a girlfriend. I’d have to pretend not to be devastated if he does.

He nods and I want to die a thousand times.

“I had to check in on my dad. He had his first round of chemo a couple of days before your thing. He wasn’t feeling so great. I was tired and worried. Sorry if I was a jerk to you.”

I have a half second of relief that he was visiting his dad and not some gorgeous lover. Then I process the rest of what he said.

I turn and put my hand over his. “That’s horrible. Is he okay now?”

He turns his hand over and threads his fingers through mine. “He’s fine now. He made it through chemo. They caught it early. There are still some tests to run, but it looks like he’s going to be around and judging me for a while longer.”

I take a second to steady myself. “I’m so glad. Losing a parent is devastating beyond description.”

“I know.” He turns his head and looks at the wall in front of us. “I lost my mom a few years back. I was determined to do whatever I could to make sure my dad had the best treatment. I couldn’t let my brother and I be orphans. So I took a job paying a lot of money and didn’t ask a lot of questions.”

Is there someone higher ranking than a queen? Because I don’t think Queen of Assholes quite covers it. I am the biggest asshole to ever live in Asshole Land. “You became an escort to help your sick dad?”

He squeezes my hand. “Yep. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

A knock on the door stops me from bursting into tears. I stand up and inconspicuously wipe the moisture from my eyes. I pay the pizza man standing on the other side of the door and bring the box inside. I arrange four coasters to support the box and grab napkins from the kitchen.

“Dinner is served!”

He takes a slice out of the box after me. “Now it’s my turn to ask some questions.”

Oh no. I’d like to say I’m an open book, but recent events show otherwise. “Go easy on me.”

“I’ll work up to the hard questions.” He grins, but it looks devious. “What did you wish for when you blew your eyelash?”

“What?”

“The first time you hired me to play David. I wiped an eyelash off your face and told you to make a wish. What’d you wish for?”

Damn it. That’s not an easy question. I could make up something, but I don’t want to lie to him. “I made two wishes.”

“That’s illegal. It’s one wish per eyelash and everybody knows that.”

I dab at the sauce on my mouth. “Well, I wished for two things and no lightning bolt came from the sky.”

“What were the two things?”

“I wished for you to kiss me and… I wished to see my mom again.”

He stares at me like he’s debating something. “Did you get both of them?”

I tear a piece of the crust off with my fingers. “No, I only got one. You kissed me, but not that night. My mom passed away, so I knew the second one wasn’t a viable option.”

“Oh.” He moves the slice away from this mouth without taking a bite. “How long ago?”

“When I was ten. It’s been a while.” Sheba and Bubbie are the only people I ever talk to about my mom.

“Does it get any easier?”

I think about telling him what he wants to hear, but, I don’t. “Not at all. You get used to it being hard, though. If that makes sense.”

He nods. “It does.” He takes a bite and chews for a while. “I haven’t met your dad. Is he in the picture?”

He’s hitting all the hard questions tonight. “No, he split pretty much the second my mom got pregnant. He thought he wanted kids until he had one on the way.”

Ben’s eyebrows reach for the ceiling. “What a piece of shit.”

“My sentiments exactly. Mom raised me by herself until she got sick. Then Bubbie took over after that. It wasn’t ideal, but I was fortunate to have been raised by two very strong women. I have a lot of good memories that outweigh the bad.”

Ben closes the lid on the box. “You love your grandmother a lot, don’t you?”

That’s the easiest question tonight. “I do. I would do anything to protect her. She’s been through so much already.”

He nods and rubs the ends of my hair with his clean hand. “I can understand that.”

I need to change the subject before I get too emotional. We’ve hit a lot of sensitive topics in a short time. “You mentioned a brother. What’s he like?”

Ben taps a strand of my hair against my nose. “Jacob? He’s younger than me, but not nearly as good looking. He’s really into gaming. I was worried about him for a while, but he grew up a lot when mom got diagnosed. He got away with everything growing up. I wasn’t as lucky.”

I prop my legs up on his lap. “Let me get this straight. You’re named Benjamin and you have a brother named Jacob and you’re not Jewish?”

He nods. “Right.”

“I don’t think that’s even legal.” I’ve never heard of such a thing.

He shrugs his shoulders. “You’re the expert in the room.”

I nudge his knee with my foot. He catches it and tickles the bottom. The joke’s on him because my feet aren’t ticklish at all.

“I’m pretty sure The State of Florida vs Finkelstein ruled you can’t have more than one child with a traditionally Jewish name without converting. It’s the law. Your whole family’s in violation.”

He gives the tickling extra effort. “Did you just make that up?”

I try to pull my foot away, but his grip is tight. I wonder what else his strong hands can do.

“I did, but I stand by the principle. Your family is probably already on some sort of rabbinic watch list.”

“I’ve got your watch list right here.”

He pulls both my legs so that I slide down the couch. He lunges toward me, covering my body with his. He tickles down my ribs, which are much more sensitive than my feet. I squirm under him, trying to catch my breath through the laughter. He has mercy after about thirty seconds and I gulp in air.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” I don’t know what made me say that. I like him here, but I don’t want him to think I’m desperate. “I mean, if you want. You could stay. Here. Tonight.”

He brushes the tousled hair off my face. “I want to stay.”

I can’t read his face. When we first met for this stupid arrangement, he told me I was the most desperate person he’d seen. I don’t want him to pity me. I like his company; I’m not angling to be another woman who uses him for his body. “Your penis stays in your pants, though. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

He laughs and rests his forehead against my chin for a second before looking back at me. “No problem there. I don’t want to get hit again. You’ve tasted blood today and I’m scared of you.”

I grunt. I’m never going to live that down. “I’m still really sorry about that. Well, about hitting you. I’m not sorry I hit my ex. He had that coming.”

“I’m not going to argue with you on that because I don’t want to get punched in the dick.”

I push on his shoulders to signal that I want him to get off me. “I think we’ve talked about this enough for one night. I’m ready for bed. Are you?” I yawn at my own mention of bed. It’s early, but it’s been a long day.

He stands up and holds his hand out to help me. “Ready when you are, Mike Tyson.”

He follows me to the bedroom where I start stacking the pillows on the floor.

“Why do you have so many pillows?”

I count the ones on the floor and the bed. “I only have nine.”

“That’s eight more than I have.”

I continue stacking the extras on the floor. “I make no apologies for my pillow surplus. You’re just jealous you don’t have as many pillows as I do.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure. We’ll go with that.”

I decide it’s best to sleep in the shorts and shirt I’m already wearing. I usually sleep in lacey nightgowns, but tonight is not the best night for that. Because I want him to keep his penis to himself. Or so I’m telling myself.

I flip off the light and climb in bed. It’s dark, but there’s enough light filtering in from the parking lot that I can see. Ben takes off his T-shirt and I almost turn the light back on. He has muscles on top of muscles. I mean, I knew he was in good shape, but not like this. These are ruin-you-for-other-men-type muscles. He takes off his sneakers and socks and climbs into bed next to me.

He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me tight against him. It’s like being held by a rock formation. I roll to face him and rub my hands up his bare back. I have so many questions. Is he an amateur body builder? When does he have time to maintain this between two jobs and caring for his dad? Why does he even wear shirts? Can I pay him to walk around shirtless in my apartment every day?

So much for judging other women for wanting him for his body. I get it now. I don’t feel good about it, but I get it.

He places a kiss on my forehead. It’s sweet, but it’s not enough. I haven’t had a man in my bed in a little while, but my body remembers what you’re supposed to do.

I slide my body up toward the headboard. This way, our faces can at least be level. I slide my nose along his cheek until my mouth hovers in front of his. My tongue runs along his bottom lip before sliding inside.

I love this part, when everything is new and perfect. Everything about this moment is perfect. I focus on noticing everything—the sheets rustling as our legs tangle together, the feeling of his warm hand sliding up the back of my shirt, the smoothness of his shoulders.

His hand glides from my back down to my ass. Really, how are his hands this big? I’m inches away from confirming the correlation to other things. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.

I pull my mouth away from his. “I’ve changed my mind on the penis thing.” My voice slips out in a breathy whisper. “I would very much like it to come out now.”

He puts his hand on my cheek and looks at me with all the sincerity in the world. “No takebacks.”

“You can’t be serious.” He’s not serious. He can’t be.

He rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m not serious.”

Thank goodness. I’m so desperate for him, it’s painful. There, I admitted it. I’m desperate. But not just for anyone. I want him. Now.

I tug at the elastic waistband of his gym shorts. He takes my forearm and pulls my hand away.

“But I haven’t even taken you out on a real date yet. I don’t want to fuck you before I even take you out. You’re… important. I want you to know that.”

How am I even supposed to respond to that? A guy I once thought had zero morals is turning me down for sex because I’m important to him. I have no idea what to do with this information.

I rub my palm across the light stubble on his face. “We had a first real date. You took me for ice cream, remember?”

He kisses my chin. “That doesn’t count.”

“It counts in my book.” I can’t believe I’m throwing myself at a heterosexual man and getting shot down. This has to be the first time in history a man’s turned down an easy lay. Fuck me, already.

His hand strokes the back of my head and down my hair. “Okay, then let me take you on a better date.”

Sheba will never in a million years believe this. I’m here and I don’t even believe it. “What do you propose?” For a lawyer, I’ve never been great at the art of compromise in my personal life. I want what I want and I bulldoze almost everyone to get my way. But I don’t want to bulldoze Ben. And that’s new.

“Is dinner and a movie too cliché?” His eyes look hopeful. “I’ll pick the restaurant because your people eat some really weird stuff and I don’t trust you. You can pick the movie.”

He’s asking for dinner and a movie in lieu of a quick fuck? Well, something tells me it wouldn’t be quick, but still.

“You’re an anomaly, Benjamin Wright… an important anomaly. I agree to your terms, though I am under duress.”