❁ Asher ❁

On my wall, I tack up pictures of Junie from the private investigator’s file. Since our date, I can’t stop thinking of her smile, but the photos remind me of how serious she normally looks. Despite her roller skates, she is a woman on guard for trouble. In most of the pictures, she possesses a deliberate gait and defiant expression.

Every waking hour, I’m lost in my thoughts of Junie. They follow me into my dreams, and I can’t shake my desire to see her face, hear her voice, and taste her lips again.

Addicted, I barely eat or sleep Thursday night or Friday morning. I stare at her photos in between checking my watch. All night, I pace while bouncing a basketball on my stained concrete floors. The echo from the ball mocks my insomnia until I turn on music as a distraction.

Years ago, I discovered a band called Daughter. Listening to their melancholy tunes relaxes me in almost every situation, though I still struggle to erase Junie from my thoughts long enough to sleep.

Instead, I find myself speculating about what kind of music Junie enjoys. Before I ask the private investigator to find the answer, I question whether knowing will make her even more of a fixture in my already obsessed mind.

On Friday evening, she stands outside of The Jewel Theater, listening to music on her phone. I watch her head gently bob. Resting against the wall near the box office, she casually waits for me, yet her body language changes whenever someone approaches her. Junie isn’t oblivious. Not now, not ever.

The two movies currently showing at The Jewel Theater are Robocop 2 and Gone with the Wind. I highly doubt the owner has the rights to show either one, but there are different rules on this side of town. No wonder my roller skate wearing obsession prefers it.

Sitting in my silver Range Rover, I watch her long past when we’re supposed to meet. Junie grows annoyed by my absence and texts me twice before calling me and leaving a grumpy message.

I don’t answer, and I never leave the SUV. I don’t know why I can’t get out. My head tells me to go, but my body won’t budge. I’m stuck in the same way as when I attempted to give a presentation in front of an auditorium of people.

Frozen, I watch Junie and wonder how long she’ll wait before leaving. To my surprise, she doesn’t go home once I’m clearly a no show. Skating to the box office, she buys a ticket and rolls into the theater to watch one of the movies alone.

I sit in the Range Rover for nearly two hours, waiting for her to emerge. A few times, I open the door and start to climb out, but my foot never touches the asphalt. Each attempt ends with me shutting the door and waiting for her to reappear.

Six people leave the theater when Junie does. Based on the length of the movie, I assume she watched Robocop 2. I notice two men following Junie as she skates to the parking lot. She peers back at them, and they share a few words. I watch her smile brightly while opening her purse and retrieving something.

Despite my inability to leave the car, I tense at the thought of her sharing her phone number with these losers. She’s beyond anything they deserve. If I weren’t still frozen in my car, I’d storm over and tell them to fuck off.

Junie points something at the men and they back off. During the entire exchange, she smiles as if they’re old friends. I don’t know what she says or what she points at them, but they hurry away.

My fingers press against the smile I wear at how she handled them. Junie knows this neighborhood. Quirky and free living, yet resistant to change, she’s as much a part of it as The Jewel Theater. In twenty years, I can imagine her still eating at the same dives, watching bootleg movies at this run-down theater, and skating down the unyielding streets of West Dietrich.

How can I hope to keep up—let alone tame—a woman like Junie when I need coaxing just to leave my home?

The answer is I can’t, which is why I don’t answer her text after the movie ends. I do follow her home to ensure she’s safe.

Junie parks her small, red SUV next to her colorful home and runs upstairs on only socked feet. I wait until she’s locked inside before I drive home to where I belong.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Junie ❁

Mallory is wearing her pink one-piece footed pajamas when she answers the door. I dump my skates on the inside walkway before entering her place. With her comfy couch that looks comfier than ever, I drop dramatically onto one end.

“Asher stood me up.”

“I know,” she says, shutting and locking the door. “You texted me ten times from the theater.”

Fighting a grin, I rest my head on the back of the couch. “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten.”

“Good riddance I say.”

Mallory joins me on the couch, sets her feet on the coffee table, and possessively holds the remote control.

“What’s with the hoodie?” I ask, glancing up at her still covered head.

“I’m cold.”

“Oh.”

“Shut up.”

“Aren’t you going to make me feel better?”

“I told you ‘good riddance.’ What more is there to say?”

“You could tell me that it’s his loss.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“And I’m a treasure any man would, you know, treasure.”

“You so are.”

“That you’ll baby me this entire weekend, so I won’t feel abandoned in the way he abandoned me at the theater.”

“Yeah, I can’t do that. You know I picked up a shift tomorrow.”

“My heart is broken, and now my best friend in the world is smashing the poor thing into the asphalt.”

Mallory narrows her gaze until her brown eyes are no more than slits. “I’m not giving you the remote.”

“Selfish.”

“I warned you romance was overrated.”

Leaning toward her, I bat my eyes at her. “Yes, but Asher is so very handsome, and I would very much like the remote.”

“Nope.”

“Fine. Do you have any snacks around?”

“Not much. I need to go shopping Sunday.”

Bummed, I stare at the TV and try to accept my relationship with Asher is over. He made his choice in a typical Asher Ferrer way. While I don’t blame him for bailing, I was willing to take the journey despite knowing the eventual destination.

❁ Asher ❁

Egor Sousa is the closest to a friend I have these days, but I never fool myself into believing we’re more than employer/employee. As my personal assistant, Egor is paid to keep me functioning while providing a barrier between me and the world I can barely tolerate. I have other assistants to handle work issues, but I keep even them at arm’s length.

The building’s security informs Egor as soon as I pull into the tower’s parking garage. He leaves his apartment on the 19th floor and is already at the elevator doors when I exit them.

“Would you like me to start your shower?” the dark-eyed man asks in his Brazilian-accented voice when I walk past him toward my bedroom.

“No.”

“Should I call downstairs for a meal?”

“No.”

“Is there anything you need?”

I stop at the glass doors of my bedroom and turn to face Egor. Ten years my junior, he arrived in the states for education and remained once I hired him. I don’t know if his dreams involve more than reading my mind. We don’t discuss our lives because neither of us has much to share. We work a lot and remain almost entirely in the tower. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve infected Egor with my neurosis. Would he be dating every weekend if I did the same? I don’t ask, but after tonight, I fear he’ll never know a healthy social life based solely on my inability to climb out of a luxury SUV and join my obsession for a movie.

“Did your date go well?” he asks hours later after I’ve worked out, swam laps, and showered until my skin puckered.

“No.”

“Will you no longer be seeing Miss Voss?”

“I don’t know.”

After standing her up, I ought to have a different answer to his question. Life isn’t simple, though, and I remain gripped by thoughts of Junie. She’s all I want, even if I can’t do more than enjoy her in my head.

Egor finally leaves the penthouse after midnight once he realizes I will not be sleeping any time soon. I’m left alone to pace through the quiet hallways of my home. I walk from one end to the other, stopping to study the photos of Junie in my bedroom, before I begin pacing again.

I don’t know why Junie holds me so tightly in her grip. I doubt she cares to know either, but I’m a man accustomed to indulging myself, and Junie is my new addiction.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Junie ❁

I stay at Mallory’s until after eleven when she needs to crash for her medical assistant job the next day. Sleep doesn’t come easily for me, and I end up on my couch all night.

By the next afternoon, I’m fully invested in my lazy self-pity while munching on Cinnamon Honey Pretzel Grahams and watching bad cable monster flicks.

“Men suck,” I tell the idiot character whining in the movie. “If you want to survive the giant snakes, you’ll need to save yourself.”

I wish Mallory was around to baby me. She could watch crappy shows and eat sugary foods and help me forget about Asher Ferrer. Instead, she’s working a shift at a local clinic for the extra cash.

I doze off somewhere between Dinoshark and Dinocroc vs. Supergator. CP takes my snoring as an invitation to curl up on my head. When the outside bell rings, I open my eyes and think I’ve slept until after dark.

Pulling my head loose from under CP’s ass, I find sunlight still streaming through the curtains. On my feet quickly—though not steadily—I hurry to the door, thinking Mallory might be locked out.

I reach the outer door of the upstairs apartments and discover Asher on the other side. He’s wearing a black and gray striped polo shirt, and black jeans I suspect are ironed. What a diva!

“Can I help you?” I grumble through the bars.

“I called you earlier, but you wouldn’t answer.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“I want to apologize for the scheduling snafu,” he says, resting his hand against the door. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know how I know,” I say, giving a pouty shrug, “but I am absolutely certain you’re lying. My gut even says you were at the theater yesterday. You just decided you didn’t want to go. Rather than being honest with me, you lied.”

“I can’t argue with your gut,” he says, flashing me an almost irresistible smile.

“Does that mean you’re leaving?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Asher stares through the door while internally my lust tussles with my dignity. He’s standing so close and looking so apologetic that my heart starts making excuses. Asher isn’t accustomed to relationships. He’s too accustomed to having his ass kissed. I should have asked where he wanted to go on Friday instead of deciding we should hang at the old theater. As good as the lies sound, I’m not naive enough to believe any of my justifications.

“You and I had fun on that one date, but we both know I was the reason. In fact, you seemed annoyed to be there.”

Asher holds my gaze. “You don’t read me very well.”

“You stood me up. Not because you were busy but because you didn’t want to go out with me.”

“Possibly, I didn’t want to see Robocop 2 or Gone with the Wind.”

“How did you know what was playing?”

“I looked it up.”

Nodding, I know he’s lying because I feel it in my gut whenever he’s utterly full of Häagen-Dazs. We’re past the point where pretending is still fun.

“This thing between us was always based on lies. Wasn’t it, Asher?” I say, emphasizing his name.

Unflinching, he cocks an eyebrow at my accusation. “A man in my position can’t be too careful.”

“Careful or not, we had our fun. Now it’s time to say goodbye.”

“I don’t agree.”

“I don’t care why you ditched me last night, but you need to leave now. Best of luck, Asher.”

I return to my apartment door and refuse to look back. If I catch sight of his dark eyes or see a sad expression on his delicious face, my resolve will crack. I HAVE NEEDS!

So I keep my gaze forward until two doors stand between us and I can pretend to be interested in the trashy movie on the TV. Once Mallory returns home, she’ll trick my depressed heart into believing Asher was just another guy in a sea of look-alikes. No loss in telling him goodbye and only a bright future awaits me.