Selling Satisfaction (13 page)

I hate that her story causes my tears to fall- but she instantly joins in. We both sit there and silently cry for a moment, staring at one another.

For the first time in years, I tell the story of what happened, feeling confident that Emily will keep this with her, rather than gossiping to everyone she runs into- meaning Everett. "The night before I turned eight, I heard my parents arguing over something. I came in the kitchen to see if everything was alright, and all I can remember really was my dad slamming the fridge door, a beer in hand as he rushes past me to the living room. My mom sat at the kitchen table holding a thick envelope, crying about something. I had asked her if everything was alright, and she looked at me with the same green eyes I have, trying desperately to smile back. She nodded her head, told me it was a silly fight that parents are bound to have, then sent me off to brush my teeth and get into bed. The next morning it was supposed to be my birthday party. I was excited it was on my birthday, and that my best friend from two towns over was going to be there. I had asked for a slip and slide, and a new bike. I knew I was getting the bike because I had peeked into the garage earlier that day and seen it partly covered with a blanket." I smile at the thought. It was purple and black with a small basket on the front of it. The same one I had circled in the ads the previous month. I couldn't believe that no matter how much my parents talked about how broke they were, they had managed to get me that bike.

"I couldn't sleep that night from all the excitement. I remember glancing over at the clock, and it was after midnight, meaning I was officially eight. The thought only kept me awake, so I climbed out of bed. There was just enough moonlight illuminating in the bedroom that I could see the corner pretty well. I grabbed a few Barbie’s and sat there, playing silently. Then I heard screaming from my mom. It was blood curdling. I froze in place, and listened more closely. She sounded she was pleading for my dad to stop, but I didn't understand. Then I heard the loudest popping sound. Seconds later I heard a second. Then... silence."

This is the part that is always the hardest for me, and it takes me a second to speak. I have to look down at my soup, as I mindlessly stir it with my fork. Something to keep my focus on anything besides the pain. "After a few minutes I had to go see what the sound was. It took a few minutes for me to register what had happened. My mom was laying on the bed, in her hand she held a framed picture of the two us from two years prior. My dad was at the foot of the bed, sprawled across the floor. Both of them with gunshot wounds, covered in their own blood, completely stilled and breathless."

I hear Emily's gasp, which reminds me that I'm not reliving this story, I'm retelling it- to someone that isn't a counselor. I stop right there, unable to say anything more. I've said too much. Way too much. I look up at her, tears streaming down both our faces. "Please keep this between us. Please. I don't want Everett to know."

"Why?" she whispers, barely audible.

"He'll judge me. Then he'll judge my dad. I don't know the answers, what I do know is that he wasn't that kind of man. He loved my mom, and he loved me. And... It hurts still."

She climbs off her stool to reach around me, holding me to her as I sob. I've never even told Hillarie that story before, and I almost hate myself for spilling it out to Emily. However, even with the regret of telling her, I feel more comfort than I've felt in over a decade from her hug alone. So I let her stay this way for a little while. Until she lets go, and I start to feel empty once more.

"The cops never figured out what happened?" She asks, as she takes a seat again.

A bitter, dishearten laugh comes out. "Right, because they care. No, they took me to my aunt, who after a week decided she couldn't handle a weeping, mournful child, then they took me to a foster home. I tried to tell the detective on the case that they were abusive, but he shrugged his shoulders and told me if I behaved they'd leave me be. So I tried desperately, but it never ended. Some homes were great, others not so much, but from that moment on I knew that I couldn't trust the cops. They never wanted to help me, they never wanted to figure out my parent's case. I hate the police. I think of them as... egotistical, selfish assholes."

"Oh," she pauses. She almost looks offended- then I think back when Everett got offensive when I mentioned I didn't trust the cops, and I put two and two together.

With a gasp, I hold my hand to my mouth. "Your dad was a cop, wasn't he? Oh my God, I'm sorry." I drop my hand, shaking my head back and forth with despair. "That makes total sense. No wonder Everett got upset when I told him I didn't trust the police. No offense to him at all, I'm sure they're not all bad. I just haven't had the best experience with them, that's all."

Emily starts to smile but I can see it's fake. "You're fine. No offense at all, honestly. I find it sad that you've had such horrible experiences with the ones you've dealt with. You're right though, they're not all bad."

She bites down on her lip as she hops off the stool. "Well, I should probably head back down to Everett, I'm sure he's already dug into the food and is wondering where I am. He gets a little protective of me."

"You're lucky you know, to have someone care about you like that."

She grins, placing her hand on my leg as she looks me directly in the eye. "If you'd let him in, he'd show you the same affection. I know you think you've lead a crestfallen life, but all that has made you who you are, and honestly, I think you're incredible. You have strength and confidence, and you obviously bust your ass to be able to afford a place like this on your own. If you're only shutting Everett out because you believe you're protecting one other, then you're doing everything wrong. Give it a try, the worse that could happen is that it doesn't work out. It's a tragedy to not even attempt anything."

With that, all my reasoning flies out the window. I sit here for a moment to ponder what she said, and all my inner arguments. Nothing comes to mind why I can't try- aside from my job. Maybe my history isn't so bad, after all the past is the past. It's what I'm doing now that I don't want him to find out about.

A majority of my clients have affairs but still love their significant other. Maybe I can do this.
Maybe
.

"Wait," I call out. Emily pauses while shutting the door behind her. She peeks back in at me curiously. "I'll go grab a tee-shirt. I'll come play cards with you."

Her smile spreads ear to ear. She knows she’s gotten to me.

Pacing back and forth, I
glance at the clock. She's been gone fifteen minutes. What is taking so long? She went up to ask Brenna to join us for dinner, not to interrogate her. I should have known this was a bad idea. I should have known she'd sit and ask thirty questions, probably scaring Brenna off for good.

I'm giving her exactly five more minutes to get here, or I'm heading up there to fetch Emily. Then I'm going to demand her to stop meddling into my life. It's obvious Brenna wants nothing to do with me. If she did, she'd find far better excuses to not come around. Not bullshit like changing her damn cats litter box.

I thought we had
something
.

The way I see it is I'm twenty six years old. I know she is younger but it can't be by much. I'm ready to settle down, I'm sick of being a bachelor. I'm ready to come home from a hectic day on the job, relax with the woman of my dreams while we watch a show on TV and eat take out. Once we're full, we can head into the bedroom to rub each other down, getting all the kinks out of one another’s bodies until we can't handle touching each other any longer, then the two of us will roll around between the sheets until we're too exhausted to go at it any longer.

Fuck
. The mere thought of doing
anything
with Brenna in the bedroom gets me going. I have to adjust my pants so it doesn't look like my dick is getting larger by the second. Especially knowing my sister will be walking through that door at any second- or at least, she better be.

Three minutes remain.

Maybe I am wasting my time. She's given me enough hints that she doesn't want anything. They're not even hints, she's blunt about it all. She doesn't want a relationship, she doesn't want more than a friendship, she doesn't want to cross any lines. Deep down I honestly thought she was playing hard to get, but I'm starting to think it was no ploy at all. She's impossible to get.

Which means, she's probably more deserving of love than anyone else, but I can't risk my entire world being shattered over a woman that clearly wants nothing to do with me. So maybe I should give up.

Two minutes remain.

The thing is, is I don't want to give up...
yet.

I shouldn’t even be contemplating this right now though. I should be eating the chicken and home fries Emily cooked, drinking some beers while we play poker, and I should enjoy my time spent with Emily before she leaves. Brenna should be the last thing on my mind.

Except, she's consumed my every thought lately. At work, on the drive home, before I fall asleep at night, in the shower, and every moment in between.

One minute.

Some of my thoughts are dirtier than they should be, some are playful, some are plain curiosity. Either way, she's taken over. Which is ridiculously poignant.

Thirty seconds. I'm heading up.

Reaching for my keys, I head straight for the door, but the moment before I open it I hear an echo of a laugh on the other side. I know that laugh, I've come to love that laugh.

The door opens and in walks Emily with Brenna by her side, both of them smiling- although, for some strange reason I notice that Brenna is a little blotchy, like she's been crying. I eye Emily curiously, but I don't think she notices. I'm sure I'll get all the details later- probably because I'm going to make her tell me them.

"I see Emily conned you into joining," I say to Brenna.

She rolls her eyes playfully. "I was promised food and booze."

"Well I think the food is cold, but we definitely have both those things."

"She was going to eat Ramen noodles," Emily says- her face pinches at the mere thought.

Since that is the main thing I have in my cupboards, I shrug. "Happens."

We all fill our plates, and I grab a couple beers to bring out to the table. "I hope you like beer," I tell Brenna. "If not, I believe I have some whiskey somewhere around here."

"Beer is great, thanks."

I hand her one after popping the top off, and I'm not going to lie when I admit that watching her press the glass bottle to her lips before tilting her head back as she takes a big swig, is probably one of the most seductive things I've seen her do. I like the idea she is okay with drinking beer- a lot of girls turn their noses up at it- and even more so the way she smiles at me when she sets the bottle down.

We all three start in on the food that Emily made, and it's the best meal I've had since arriving in Florida, even better than that steakhouse Brenna sent me to.

Once it's finished and the table is cleared, Emily goes and grabs the deck of cards. Since she put everything in a place around the house, I have no idea where anything is. I think it's going to take me a month to figure most of it out, and half it if will probably be put somewhere else. I'm thankful just the same that she did what I wasn't able to do. I'm not sure how I'm going to handle her heading back home.

Sitting at the table, Brenna peeks over at me with a bashful smile. "I'm not sure how to play," she admits. There is something different about her. She doesn't seem as... distant.

"I'll teach you, no worries."

"I should probably teach you," Emily chimes in as she rounds the corner from the hallway. "I'm a lot better at it than him."

"She
thinks
she's better. What she doesn't realize is that I always let her win." I pretend to whisper it, knowing Emily will hear me. She comes up and smacks me on the back of the head before taking the seat next to me. Brenna chuckles softly.

Taking the cards from the package, Emily starts to shuffle as she tells the rules. I separate the chips as she does this. "Okay, since you're on the left of me, you have to pay what is called the small blind, and since Everett is on the left of you he has to pay the big blind." I show Brenna what Emily means. While dealing out the five cards to all three of us, she places everything how it needs to be. We do our first round of bets.

Emily continues to explain it to Brenna. "You can throw any cards down that you want, and you'll get an equal amount replaced to you. We will do one more round of bets, you can fold, pass, or bet since you go first. Once we all finish this second round, whoever has the best five cards wins the bet."

I explain the difference in folding, passing and betting. She seems to get it, so we play a fake round to show her what we're talking about. Then a second. With confidence, she asks, "So can we play for real money?"

"Sure," I shrug. "What were you thinking? A buck or two?"

"Thirty dollar buy in," Emily suggests.

"What? I said a dollar or two!"

Brenna laughs while reaching down for her wallet. "Thirty it is."

I somehow think I got hassled, but I don't say as much. "I got to go get my wallet from my dresser then."

Emily wins the first round. When we get to the second round, we keep the buy in at only ten dollars- mainly because I do know she's better and I'm going to need groceries soon. She wins the second and third round as well, I win the fourth and Brenna finally wins the fifth. Her face lights up more than ever expected when she places down her three aces and two fours.

"What?! Not fair!" Emily whines. She throws down her full house too, except she has three kings and two fives. "This is one hell of a hand!"

"But mines better," Brenna gloats.

I had a shit hand, so I toss it into the pile of discarded cards.

"Whatever." Emily instantly shows that she is a massive poor sport- she always has been. Throwing her cards to the side, she stands to stretch out. "I'm exhausted, and Momma always taught us to give up when we're ahead. So I think I'm going to hit the hay. Hey, now that you know how to play, you should do some strip poker. As long as you keep the noise down." She winks at Brenna as she grabs her winnings and wallet from the table. "Night y'all." She walks off like she didn't just suggest something that leaves my throat dry.

Brenna peeks over at me with pink cheeks, and I love that the idea of us getting naked together causes her to blush. However, I know that isn't how I want to spend my evening with her. Well, actually, I'd love to be naked with Brenna- but not yet, I tell myself. She deserves romance. I've never been that kind of guy, but I've also never met a girl that makes me
want
to be that kind of guy.

"She's relentless," I admit.

Brenna nods. "I've noticed. I like it though. She's great. Where does she live?"

"Virginia."

"Is that where you're from?" Brenna asks.

"Born and raised."

"Wow, so this must all really be different for you."

It's more of a statement rather than a question, but I answer it anyways. "Yeah, it is, but it has its perks."

The pink hue on her cheeks darken and she looks away, glancing around my place. "It looks good in here. You decorate or Emily?"

"Emily, definitely. I don't have a knack for that kind of thing."

"Me either." She scrunches her face up. "I had to hire someone to come decorate for me."

I think back and she didn't have much for decor. A few nice pieces of art- at least, I think they were nice. Probably expensive, given her taste in everything else. She had the one photograph, but nothing else that was personable. Then again, she mentioned foster care. She didn't have anything else that stuck out to me. Normally there are a few things that stick out to me- it's my job to notice. Now I want to go back into her condo and nitpick it.

Not knowing what more to say, I decide to dig in where I probably shouldn't, but it's a previous question she's avoided, and given the fact she can openly admit she's rich enough to hire a decorator, especially growing up in foster care, I decide to ask once more. "What do you do for work? You seem to be pretty successful in whatever it is."

Her eyes quickly fixate back on me rather than around my living room. I see a fear in them, and I'm not sure I like it. "I work for Panama Studios."

"Isn't that a film studio?"

"Yeah," she nods her head. "I have a list of clients, and I help book them gigs. Usually nothing too big, but once in a while we hit the jackpot."

"So you're a filming agent? I didn't realize you could do that in Florida. Do you get paid on commission?" After a second break, I add in. "I don't mean to intrude into your business, I'm curious. You seem to be well off for your age."

"I get a regular pay and commission, yes."

"How long have you been working there?"

"Three years," she answers.

"Wow, so you must like it."

She nods softly. "Most days."

"Long drive for work," I add in.

"It's worth it. You've seen my car, right?" She smiles, but it isn't full of life like many times before. "Plus, it's better than being cooped up all day long like you."

"That is true.” Which is a lie. “Want another beer?" I ask, while standing up. Together we've polished off most of a twelve pack.

She looks down at the last bottle she had, shaking her head. I enjoy the way it makes her hair sway back and forth. "I've had more than enough actually."

"What is it that you do for fun?" I ask when I enter back in the room, twisting the cap off another bottle for myself.

"Meet strangers, get drunk with them, then lose all my money at poker." She smirks, but the investigator in me knows it's because she's not admitting her truth for a reason. She's trying to cover it up with playful mockery. I have to avoid digging into the reasoning at the moment. I wish she were straightforward with me about so many things, rather than covering it all up, but I guess that is half the reason I become infatuated with her. "What about you?"

I play it off too. "Invite beautiful women into my place to have drinks and hand over their money." I wink before washing back some of my beer.

When she throws her head back in a fit of irresistible laughter, I realize she does find comfort in me. This is a part of Brenna I have been wanting to see, with her walls crumbling down around her. I'm not sure if it was something Emily did, or me, or a combination of us together, but things are finally starting to feel right.

"So how many women have you brought back here to get drunk?” She asks. She wants to play it off as a joke, but I can hint the true curiosity in her tone.

I make sure to let her know it's a joke. "Since being in Florida, ah, at least fifty. Only one of them let me take full advantage of her though."

"Enlighten me."

"Wanita, hot damn. She reminded me of the teacher on Matilda. That girl was feisty."

"So I'm in competition with Wanita the feisty Trunchbull, huh? I don't think I could ever compare."

I don't think she realized her words-
in competition
. I hardly heard anything she said after that. She basically admitted to me something I didn't think were much of a possibility. She obviously has some feelings for me, even if it's simply being
interested
in me. All joking aside, I make sure to let her know. "You're in no competition. There could be a hundred girls lined up outside my door and all I would see is you."