Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (17 page)

              Sucking in her breath as if I hit her, she finally relented, “I got it.”

              Absolute silence stretched between us. I didn’t even hear her breath. After allowing it to linger for a minute or two, I made my request. “Do me a favor and watch her.”

              “Of course I will.”

              “Thanks.” I knew she meant what she said, and I did too. We both wanted Emma to feel comfortable and safe.

              If she was curious about my request or had an opinion, she kept it to herself, which made me once again grateful to her for her discreteness…for the moment. Considering this was Mel, it would be short–lived.

              “You’ll ask for leave?” She switched back to our initial conversation.

              “I’ll ask, but I’m not making promises.”

              “Whatever. If your ass doesn’t get it, I’ll come out West and kick your butt.”

              Chuckling at her harmless threat, I teased her. “Awe, do you miss me that much?”

              “Nope. Not really. I’m just tired of dealing with your crybaby sister.”

              “I’ll do what I can, and that’s all I can do, but even if I get it, you know how my parents are with…” I trailed off, suddenly unsure of what I wanted to say.

              “I know they are, but this isn’t for them. It’s for Rayne.

              I pretended to pout. “Which is the only reason I’m doing this.”

              “I know.” Her snickering turned to a snort.

              “That’s lovely. I can’t believe Luke loves a pig.”

              “Oink oink.”

              “Very classy. Your grandmother would probably have a cow if she heard that.”

              “Probably,” Mel readily agreed as she laughed.

              “Okay. Look, I’ll talk to you later, and I promise to call Rayne tomorrow since I’m not sure what time I’m getting home tonight?”

              “Big date?” She couldn’t hide it, I heard her increased curiosity over the phone.

              I smirked, “Something like that.”

              “I got it. Have fun playing the whore and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

              I knew she wasn’t serious with her insults, but sometimes…I mean I was no virgin by any stretch of the imagination—lost it at 14 to a girl who was 16—but I also didn’t sleep with every girl I came into contact with. I might have slept with maybe 50%, except lately. I’d felt the itch for sex, but hadn’t managed to follow through. Frustrations put me on edge, and I found myself desperate to find someone…anyone. Today’s date, I met at the grocery store the day before, and I figured she had to be better than stinky feet. “Please let it be better than stinky feet,” I prayed.

***

              I parked in the well–lit parking lot of the hole in the wall Italian restaurant she recommended. If I hadn’t pull the address up on GPS, I would’ve completely missed it. The restaurant sign had several letters burned out, and therefore the name read ALF instead of ALFONSO’S. It sat situated between a dry cleaner and an insurance office. The strip center appeared small and unassuming, but standing in front of a glass door that had a potted tree on either side of it, my date, Shelly (or was it Shelby?) waited for me.

My eyes skimmed my dashboard and found my clock. I arrived ten minutes early, and she got there even earlier than I had. Punctual. I liked that in a girl. Thoughts of another girl crept to the forefront, sneaking in like a ninja. Emma and I never really had a set time we talked. It usually happened when we both wound up online at the same time, however, there were rare occasions that we would set a time. She always pinged me five minutes early on the dot. Either she was anxious to talk, or all of her clocks needed to be set to the correct time.

No. Now was not the time to think about Emma, or anyone else for that matter. I had a date waiting for me, and Shelby (or was it Shelly, Cindy, Shandy?) deserved my attention.

“Hi, were you waiting long?” I asked, giving her my best smile. Taking in a long deep breath when I reached her side, I exhaled slowly. She smelled good. No rotting corpses or fishy cat food. So far, so good.

“Not at all. I work next door at the insurance office and just got off about five minutes ago. My boss was in a hurry to close up shop, so I got the boot out the door.” She giggled and it sounded melodious and pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty.

Emma’s laugh sounded like a loud seal, and yet, it didn’t annoy me. It probably should have though, but maybe the free flowing beer and bad karaoke singing made me deaf that night. So different from my date, whatever her name was. Another arrow of guilt hit me, and I pushed it away. I had no reason to feel guilty about going out with anyone.

Pushing all thoughts of anyone or anything else away, I chuckled and pulled open the door for the only person who mattered for the moment. “That’s convenient.”

“It is.”

“Hey, Dana,” the hostess greeted my date. Dana? I’d been way off the mark.

“Hi, Penny.” Dana gave the hostess a large smile and then asked, “Can we have a table toward the back?”

“Sure. I got the perfect one for you two.” Penny gave us both a conspiratorial wink and lead the way to a corner booth in the back where no one else had been seated. It was still early on a Wednesday night, so half the restaurant sat empty, but the hostess still sat us as far away from anyone as possible.

After Penny left us alone, I asked, “Are you a regular?”

Her sing song laugh filled the air again. “You could say that. Since it’s right here, I come at least three times a week.” Leaning in, Dana whispered, “My figure is suffering for it.”

I knew she was fishing for a compliment. She wanted me to compliment her figure, which didn’t look as if she chowed down on pasta all the time. Her waist was trim and when she walked, her heels accentuated her long legs and firm ass. Yesterday at the store, her hair had been swept up in a messy ponytail, but tonight her long honey blonde hair hung down to just below her shoulders in waves. She had taken the time with her appearance tonight, I could tell, but I leaned in closely and told her, “You have an amazing figure.”

Blushing, her green eyes danced as she grinned. “Thank you.”

Girls were easy. They liked compliments, thrived on them in fact, and wanted to be treated with respect. I could do both of those things with ease.

Unless that girl was named Emma Taylor. Then I felt like I had to monitor everything I said. Sometimes talking to her made me feel like I was navigating a mine field. But her brown hair and brown eyes contrasted with Dana’s light hair and eyes. Even their personalities seemed to be polar opposites. I tried to picture Emma with Dana’s personality, but it didn’t work.

“Is something wrong?” Dana questioned.

“Wrong? No. Sorry. I was just thinking about something my roommate asked me to do.” My answer sounded forced and rushed to my ears, however, she visibly relaxed and seemed to accept it as fact.
Stop it, Bryan. You don’t need to think about Emma right now!

              After we ordered, I managed to keep Emma out of my thoughts the rest of the night…for the most part. On the way to Dana’s house for “dessert,” I might have thought about her briefly, and I might have checked to see if she left me a FaceSpace message, but other than that, I remained with Dana mentally.

              Yes, I stayed with Dana, but the guilt started to creep in again when we got to her place and began ripping each other’s clothes off on our way down the hall to her bedroom. I refused to stop though. I needed this. I needed tonight. I needed to get laid. I was on the cliff of desperation and I jumped.

              I had done nothing wrong. Dana and I were two consenting adults.

I wished I could blame the guilt on the fact I had to keep reminding myself of Dana’s name, but I couldn’t keep up that façade. When I closed my eyes, I imagined a set of brown eyes staring back at me. Why? Why was I plagued with thoughts of Emma? Why this guilt?

Chapter 18

Emma

Something seemed off about Bryan today, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure it out. It was just a feeling I had, nothing more, and nothing less. It felt like there was this canyon between us. Which, if I thought about it, was ridiculous, considering all we have ever done was talked on FaceSpace messenger.

Me:
Are you sure u r ok?

Bryan:
Fine.

Every time I asked, he gave me the same answer. I knew it sounded weird or funny, but all of his responses seemed short, without humor, and clipped. What had happened in his part of the world?

Normally when we talked, Bryan harped on me about ways to better myself, to get rid of my insecurities, or he bugged me about my past. None of that had happened today…yet. I thought he would have given me a pep talk about tomorrow’s barbecue by now, but that hadn’t happened either. If anything, the conversation felt slightly one–sided. He asked about my day, and I told him about how I had an eye appointment and the nurse dilated my eyes. I hadn’t realized I was getting my eyes dilated and wound up calling my sister to drive me home since she had stayed home to wait on the cable man today. Then I told him I tried to play with Curley, but I kept throwing the toy on the table, behind the TV, or in the water bowl. After that, my dog gave up and left me to take a nap. I expected a few LOLs or something, but I got another short response.

Bryan:
That’s nice.

That was all he could say?

Me:
You ok?

Bryan:
I’m fine.

Me:
How was your day?

I hoped that would start a conversation, but my hopes proved to be in vain.

Bryan:
I flew drills, worked out in the gym, and met with my CO.

Me:
You’re CO?

Bryan:
It means commanding officer.

Me:
I knew that. Everything ok?

Bryan:
Then why did you ask? And, I told you, I’m fine.

I managed to develop a deep level of hostility for the word “fine.” I tried to give him an out.

Me:
Need me to let you go?

Bryan:
Nah. I can talk.

I screamed at the computer, “Then fucking talk to me!” He couldn’t hear me, but it made me feel better.

Me:
How were your drills?

Bryan:
Good. I hit all my targets.

Me:
So is it like that movie Top Gun?

Bryan:
What? LOL.

That was my first “LOL” of the conversation today. Had I finally broken through to him? Maybe things were looking up. I could picture him distracted and then seeing my question. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and laughed. Not sure if that was what he did or not, but the Bryan in my head appeared real enough to me. Then again, maybe I sat on the precipice of completely going crazy.

Cracking my knuckles and then my neck, I tried to get rid of some of my tension. I already heard plenty of stories from my dad on how Top Gun didn’t come close to comparing to real life. Chris Taylor, aka “The Dad” as he liked to call himself, made it his duty to inform anyone around him exactly what Hollywood got wrong about any military movie (especially the Navy), or any movie involving planes. I had heard countless times how
Air Force One
couldn’t possibly be accurate because shooting a gun in a plane, regardless of the plane, would cause issues with cabin pressure…after that I usually tuned him out because by this point he sounded like the adults from those Charlie Brown cartoons.

I asked because I wanted to shock Bryan out of his funk, or whatever was going on with him.

Me:
Is it like the movie Top Gun?

Bryan:
Haha. If I say yes, will you call me Maverick from now on?

Me:
Oh please. You can do better than Tom Cruise’s character. I’ll call you Goose.

Bryan:
1
st
, Goose is the navigator. 2
nd
, he died. No thank you. LMAO.

Me:
Iceman?

Bryan:
Better. I’m good with Iceman.

Me:
What is your pilot name?

Bryan:
Long Duck Dong.

Me:
Bwahahaha! Do not pull 16 Candles into your depravity. That is one of my fave movies.

Bryan:
U made me snort when I laughed at you.

Me:
Hehe. Well? What is it
?


Bryan:
Something. LOL.

Me:
That doesn’t tell me anything.

Bryan:
It’s need to know and you don’t need to know.

Me:
Funny because I feel like I do, in fact, need to know.

Bryan:
Call signs aren’t like on Top Gun. Well, some are and some aren’t.

Me:
So, you won’t tell me?

Bryan:
Maybe one day, honey. ;)

Me:
I’ll hold you to that.

Soooo…real life isn’t like Top Gun?

Bryan:
Hell fucking no. It’s a hell of a lot harder.

Me:
Have you been to Top Gun? I know the school actually exists.

Bryan:
It does and I have.

Me:
Oh, so you’re a hot shot.

Bryan:
One of these days I may let you see how hot I can be.

Me:
LOL.

His jokes still managed to make my insides clench in anticipation. No wonder I had imagined him a couple of different times as I pleasured myself.

Had I finally broken through the wall he erected today?

Me:
Anything I need to know about tomorrow?

I crossed my fingers that the party had been cancelled. Luck abandoned me once again.

Bryan:
No. Just be you and you’ll be fine.

Me:
So, if I jump on the bar and perform a striptease that would be all right?

             
It took him a few seconds to respond, and picturing him doing a double take, had me doubling over in laughter. There was no way possible I would do something like that—now or before I got sick. Then again, before myasthenia gravis, I partied a lot more, and tequila had a way of making me do crazy things. I’ve kissed a stranger, made out with two men at once, flashed a bouncer so he would let me into a club without charging me, and I may have danced on a bar or four.

Bryan:
WTF? You are not serious!

Me:
ROFL. Of course not.

Bryan:
Rolling my eyes. Just go and have fun. Mel and Luke will be there too.

This is about getting you out of the house and having fun again.

Me:
Fine.

Bryan:
You better go.

Me:
I will. I don’t want to, but I promised and I will.

Bryan:
Good.

Me:
Yeah. Yeah. ;)

Bryan:
Hey Em?

Me:
What?

              Bryan had never shortened my name before. Then again, I was the only person in the chat window with him, so he hardly ever used my name to begin with. I liked it. I loved the tingly feeling when he used my nickname.

             
Bryan:
Nothing. Never mind.

             
Curious by nature, I pestered him.

Me:
What? I’m an open book today. Better ask while you can.

             
It felt as if minutes ticked by, but it might’ve only been seconds. When I thought he wouldn’t type anything, he did, and his question shocked me. Out of anything he could have asked me, this had been the one I didn’t expect.

Bryan:
What did it feel like when you got sick?

Me:
Why? Are you having weird symptoms?

Bryan:
No, curious. One day you were fine. The next…

Me:
Pretty much how it happened.

I have asthma and went in for my normal checkup on a Friday morning. For the first time in a long time, everything went perfect. My stats were great. Doc was happy.

That night, I went out when some friends to a concert and drinks.

Saturday morning, I thought I had worn myself out and excused it as partying too much. I thought that’s why I felt so run down, and needed extra time to recoup.

Sunday I felt the same, and Monday I was tired, but I still went to work. I struggled the whole day though.

Tuesday, I couldn’t breathe. I went to the ER and they thought asthma.

I did too, except I got worse throughout the week. My regular doc couldn’t understand it, but he knew something was wrong. I saw him the day after the ER and the day after that. And finally, he put me on what we thought would be short–term disability until we figured out what was wrong with me.

A month later, I was diagnosed with myasthenia gravis. From that first day in the ER to the day I got the verdict, 36 days passed. The day I ended up in the ER, my life changed forever.

LOL. Ok, that sounds more ominous and dramatic than it really was.

Bryan:
But going through it all, I’m sure it felt dramatic. Still does sometimes?

Me:
It did, and it does.

Bryan:
Tell me about you before you got sick.

             
Me:
Me before?

Bryan
:

Yes.

I paused. Me before? It all seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet, only four years had come and gone. Before…during that time in my life, everything revolved around whatever I wanted it to, and I didn’t care about tomorrow as much as I did now. I never thought everything would change overnight, or that I would somehow lose a part of me.

Bryan:
Hello?

My mind had wandered again, and I had left him sitting there without an answer for almost five minutes. My eyes roamed around my bedroom. They took in the walls, the pictures, the window, and finally landed on Curley who was curled up in between my slightly spread legs. Life had changed.

In my old apartment in Texas, the manager allowed me to paint the walls and I had covered my bedroom in a soft lilac. Pink may have been my favorite color, but I loved how the pastel purple glowed in the sunshine that shined through the big picture window. My bedroom in Charleston measured slightly smaller, and the walls were stark white. Management refused to allow me to paint them. Since I couldn’t paint, my sister came over one day and we covered the walls with pictures and framed posters. We didn’t cover everything, but at least the art contributed a pop of color. Something the apartment desperately needed.

Bryan:
Em?

Me:
Sorry about that. Dog had a potty emergency. And since I have to put him on a leash and walk outside, took me a sec. He was crying. LOL.

My cheeks turned pink as the lie rolled off my fingers. I squirmed in bed, afraid he could see me, knowing he could not.

Bryan:
NP.

Me:
I loved going to school and learning, but I also liked my job. I was probably a more carefree person after I got my Master’s up until I got sick.

Before I got my graduate degree, I worked my butt off so I could go to college, but I told you that whole story.

              I loved playing tennis, hanging out with my friends, singing karaoke or whatever. I traveled as much as I could, watched a lot of sports (still a sports fanatic), probably drank more than I should, and did whatever the hell I wanted to at the time.

I hate to admit it, but I didn’t spend as much time with my grandparents as I probably should have. My grandfather is gone now, but my grandmother still lives in Texas right outside of Houston with a horrible relative.