A Year Later.
SLUT. THE WHORE OF BABYLON. Jezebel.
Emery, Nolan, and Henry are all in jail now, so these words no longer get tossed in my face when I walk down the street. Thirteen years each, the maximum the state of California usually gives a rapist. The judge had a lot to say about the boys’ behavior when he gave the verdict. Especially after more girls came forward.
Two they met in college.
Emery’s girlfriend, who admitted he’d forced her into doing things with him when they were together.
And Wren, who confessed they’d taken advantage of her one night, when she was too drunk to drive back home.
I say “boys,” but chronologically, they should be men.
They’d never be men.
Men don’t take without asking.
Men don’t abuse women.
Men. Don’t. Rape.
Mayra got her license revoked by the state, and she is now under investigation. Last I heard, she had to sell her house, because she was no longer able to pay her mortgage. Comes with the territory of not being able to practice your profession, I suppose.
My bank account still says that I’m a millionaire, but it is my soul that feels rich these days. My mother is somewhere in Anaheim, couch-surfing with former friends and calling me every now and again, begging for a dime or two. I have yet to touch Darren’s money, but when I do, I know what I’ll be doing with it. I will help others in a way no one helped me when I needed it most.
I talk to Detective Villegas. A lot. Together we brainstorm ideas of what to do with the money. How to make sure it ends up in good hands. But here are the things I would never use it for: Clothes. Homes. Cars. Expensive gifts.
This money has meaning. I just haven’t figured it out yet.
“Birthday pancakes!” Hannah yells from downstairs, and I grin into my pillow, cracking one eye open.
“I’m trying to watch my weight!” I call from my bedroom upstairs. Hannah only comes to work three times a week now, but I still pay her double what Pam did. Thanks, Darren.
“You have to have pancakes for your birthday; it’s a rule.”
“Well, rules are meant to broken!”
I take the stairs two at a time. I don’t expect to see Bane there, because I know he had some business downtown. Things have been hectic lately, with us sorting out our future in Todos Santos, Bane’s career as a pro surfer and instructor, and the fact that I bought into a partnership at Book-ish, the bookstore where I still work.
Bane is not there, but everyone else is.
And there are balloons. Dozens of them. A huge Happy Birthday banner hanging across the dining room. I smile at my tribe, feeling loved, and cherished, and giddy. Feeling loved.
Hannah. Gail. Sonya. Edie. Beck. Mrs. Belfort. Kacey. Ryan. Everyone I know and love.
Gail and Sonya are the first to approach me. Gail unlocks herself from her boyfriend Beck’s hug and walks over, scanning my pink PJ’s with amused mockery, and Sonya wipes the sleep from my eyes like the mother I never had.
“I thought long and hard what to get you for your birthday, and I decided I have just the thing for you.” Gail laughs.
“Is it a new best friend? Because my current one is sassing around way too much,” I say.
Sonya shakes her head and snakes her arm around me, gathering me into a hug.
Gail shoves a box of condoms to my chest. “Use them. My boss is an asshole, and I don’t need more of him in this world.”
Sonya shrieks in protest and waves her finger at Gail.
I take the box and put it on the granite kitchen counter.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that it is too late for that. That I haven’t taken my pills in months.
Besides, it’s so early on, I’m not even nauseated yet. I’ve only missed one period, and I still haven’t told Bane. But yesterday, when I took the test and it came out positive, I stood in front of the mirror and smiled.
My Whole Life Has Been Pledged to This Meeting with You
I hug Gail, and she puts her palm across my heart and whispers into my ear, “I’d have given you a sword, but you already own one.”
“You fucked my fucking mom.”
I drum my fingers over the glass separating me from jewelry that costs more than a five-bedroom house in Fresno. Hale rolls his eyes inside their sockets and waves me off. “I didn’t know she was your mom. When you came in that day with Jesse, I was just as surprised as you were.”
“I didn’t know it was you in the bedroom. I’d have killed you,” I say conversationally. This, by the way, is not an exaggeration.
“I know.” He pretends to wipe invisible sweat from his forehead. “Dodged that bullet. And there are more to come.”
“All set.” The saleswoman behind the counter hands Hale a small green gift bag with his latest purchase. He spent his last ten salaries on it.
“Anything for you?” She smiles at me sweetly as she goes back to admire the engagement ring in the catalog. The one Hale just purchased.
“Are you asking me if I feel like spontaneously spending thirty K today? Hard pass, woman.”
She laughs. I turn toward Hale and lift a finger in warning. “If you give me a sibling, I’ll fuck you up.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “You’re nuts.”
“That wasn’t a no. Give me a solid, binding no.”
“I’m marrying this woman, and she is forty-four. We may have a kid. We may not. Either way, you’ll find out in the next few years.”
So here is what happened: the day I came in with Jesse, my mom had decided to have a one-night stand with someone she had met at a bar the night before. Someone who had happened to be my business partner. She’d asked him what his name was. He’d said Johnny. He’d asked her what her name was. She’d said Ruslana. They both thought it would be nothing more than a one-time fling.
Then I came in, in the middle of their…don’t let me spell that out for you, and she’d kicked him out. Well, Hale being Hale, he got super pissed. First, because of the unfinished business, but mostly because he’d messed with one of his best friend’s moms. He swung by her house later that day to confront her about her lying to him. She pointed out that he was lying, too.
They told me the week after that they liked each other too much not to see where it would lead. They asked me, from a scale of one to killing myself, if it would hurt me if they pursued a relationship.
At first I thought I was experiencing a heart attack.
“Snowflake, check my heart rate. It’s as fast as a Ferrari.” I’d drawn Jesse’s palm to my chest. She’d said I needed to give them the chance to be happy with each other. With any other chick, I’d have told her to mind her own business and bend over.
With Jesse, I simply tossed Hale a look that said: break my mother’s heart and I’ll break your teeth.
If everything goes according to this fucker’s plan, my business partner is about to become my stepfather in the next few months or so. Weirdest part? He is two months younger than me.
But I promised I was not going to dwell.
I push past Hale as we both get out of the jewelry store, and stop in front of my truck.
“Good luck today,” he tells me.
“I’d say the same to you, but I really don’t want you as family.” I roll my eyes. I drive to where I need to drive to pick up what I need to pick up. Then go up to El Dorado to meet the girl of my dreams.
We live in El Dorado. In a house that costs more than we’ll ever make in our entire lives. It’s not ours, and we don’t pay rent. And it has a pool. And a tennis court. And a fucking bomb-ass maze.
I throw my truck into park and hop out. My gift follows closely behind me eagerly. It’s Jesse’s twenty-first birthday, and she can officially drink now. That’s good. She might need some liquid courage to answer my next question.
“Come on, buddy. The maze is fun.” I tug at the leash. “I did unholy things to your future mom there more times than I can count.”
“Jesse!” I call out to her, which prompts her breathless giggles, the ones that float straight to my dick. I know where to find her. In the center of the snowflake. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
I’m praying the Labrador puppy behind me won’t bark and shit all over my surprise. Especially literally.
“Are you panting?” She laughs harder, and I shoot the pup a you’re-making-me-look-bad frown, trying hard not to crack up. Dude is killing my swag. For a cute thing, he sure sounds like a chain-smoking swine.
“Yeah.” I crack my gum. “Gotta work on my cardio. I could use some help.”
“You’re getting help twice a day, sometimes three on weekends.” She hmmphs. I know what she is doing. She is reading one of her smutty books. I’ve grown to love them almost as much as the classics. Pushkin was the man, but recreating scenes from smutty books is far better than trying to recreate his. Dude was fifty shades of cray.
I find her in the center, like I knew I would.
No longer hidden by a hoodie, a walled-up expression, and shapeless pants, but with those dirty white Keds and ripped jeans and the smile that could break your heart even from across the room.
I don’t want you, Snowflake.
I need you.
I need you.
I fucking need you.
“Happy birthday.” I unleash the pup on her, and he was a good choice—I knew he would be, when I picked him up from the shelter—because he runs straight into her arms and forces her to put down the book and hug him. He licks her face all over, like he is already hers. She squeaks, her smile too big for her face. I take my phone out and take a picture of it.
Click.
Remember this moment.
“Roman!” She stands up, holding him close to her chest, kissing the top of his head. “This is perfect. He is perfect,” she amends after lifting him a few inches above her head, checking for his gender. “I’m going to call him Pushkin.”
“It’s not all,” I tell her. She raises an eyebrow, probably remembering the fact that these were my exact words last year when I gave her the snow globe, and watches me. I decide on the spot, despite my best intentions, to do the whole shebang.
Get down on one knee.
Produce the ring I bought for her a long, long time ago.
And bow my chin down, playing humble for once in my goddamn life.
The ring was purchased after I realized I didn’t need SurfCity or a mall, or a fucking Vicious-styled secretary who looks she like she is about to shit a brick every time I glance her way. I sold the hotel and bought the ring the same afternoon. It cost about the same. Zero regrets there.
“You better say yes, because we’re having dinner with my mom and Hale tonight, and he is going to pop the question, and I sure as fuck am going to beat him at his own game.”
“So this is what our engagement is to you? A game?”
I huff. “I mean, you’re an okay chick.”
She giggles, plants another kiss on Pushkin. I like the name. It will feel good to hear it bouncing on the walls of our house. “Well, perfect timing.”
“Why is that?” I grin.
“Because…” She lifts her shirt up. Jesse spent the last two months working on an elaborate tattoo to cover the marks the assholes left on her skin. It’s a huge gladiolus, a flower that symbolizes strength and integrity, its name stemming from the word Gladius, an ancient Roman sword. I blink, ignoring her expectant stare.
“Because…?” I probe. She puts Pushkin down, grabs my hand, and flattens it against her lower stomach.
“Feel it.”
“Feels tough.”
“That’s because your baby is growing there.”
The air is knocked out of my lungs. I knew it was coming. Kind of. The birth control pills were gone, and Jesse asked me the other day how I felt about kids. I decided to be cautious and dodge it, not really sure if she would get freaked out by me wanting them or disappointed because I didn’t. Truth was, I was impartial. What mattered was whom I’d have them with. “I wouldn’t date one, but I guess they’re cute.” I shrugged. She said it normally took six months to get pregnant after you’re off the pill. I responded, “Feel free to throw them in the trash bin, along with the memories of your asshole mom.”
It took us less than a month.
Well, shit.
I’m still on my knee when Jesse cups her mouth. Mrs. B’s kids let us stay in their house while they are looking for buyers. When a house costs twenty million dollars, finding a buyer is not that easy. So we house-sit for Juliette and hop onto a plane every now and again to visit her. Sometimes we invite friends over for dinner. Edie and Trent were here the other day with Luna and the baby, Theo. I love this house, but man, I can’t wait to move into the yacht we purchased a few weeks ago. It’s being painted right now, and that shit is huge.
“That’s the part where you answer,” I groan.
“Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, yes, yes!” she yelps, and I slide the ring onto her finger. It’s the wrong finger, so she tells me to do it right, and I roll my eyes and tell her I’m new to this love bullshit. She tells me I still do it very well, and we’re happy.
So fucking happy.
And Pushkin is pissing on my boots.
And the sun is shining.
And I kiss her hard, my lips smashing into hers.
“I think we need matching ass tattoos,” I say.
“Why? Do you have another cool story?” She grins into our kiss.
I pick her up by the ass and wrap her legs around my waist. “Yeah.” I bite her lower lip and tug. Hard. “You.”
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