Skin Like Dawn (27 page)

Maybe something different.  

But she couldn’t ignore the completely unsolicited, unjustified, unforeseen hum of fruition between her thighs.  

She shunned her brain’s own deception of events.  

And her heart.  

Bellamy pulled in front of the restaurant and she couldn’t get out fast enough.  Zuly scrambled in her wake to keep up. 

  She didn’t even remember thanking him for the ride.  

The restaurant was crowded and the smell of sizzling garlic filled her nose.  

The mindless chatter of the guests quieted her burdensome thoughts.  

She was set free.  

She dashed through the restaurant, her Cuban girlfriend in tow, spotting her husband on the other side, at the end of the bar, working on beer number two.  

He looked at her, smiled, and slid off of the barstool.  She grabbed at him aggressively, nearing his face to hers, kissing him before he had a chance to speak.  She tasted Athens, Georgia on his lips, and Jekyll Island, and their very first kiss.  She devoured her first feelings of love with him, in its beginnings, as his unwilling moan hummed against her mouth.  And in an instant, she was back where she belonged.  Brandon Greene was inside of her again.  

“Damn, did you miss me?” 

She smiled, and pecked his lips once more.  “Of course I did.  I’ll always miss you.” 

He pulled her into him and extended his hand to Zuly.  “Nice to see you again.” 

“Same to you.  Thanks for the invite.”

“Not a problem.  Natalie won’t shut up about you, so I figured I needed to get to know you better.” 

“Agreed.  What beer you drinking?” 

“Some shitty west coast ale.  Got any suggestions?” 

Natalie pursed her lips.  “Brandon’s a New Yorker.  Give him something stronger.” 

“Ah.  Got it.”  Zuly moved toward the bar, summoning the bartender in Spanish.  She returned quickly with two Bucaneros.  

She handed one to Brandon.  “Try this.” 

Brandon placed the bottle to his lips, then smacked them once he’d finished.  “Well, shit, Zuly.  This is amazing.” 

“Best in Cuba.” 

They clanked bottles.  

Natalie patted her husband on the back.  “Shall we get to a table?”

“Not quite.  Got a couple more people coming.” 

“Who?  People from work?” 

Brandon rolled his lips in, his eyes widening.  “Hmm.  Not quite.” 

“Natalie.  Savannah. Chandler.  Greene.” 

She recognized the voice.  She recognized the lack of shame in yelling across a restaurant.  She recognized the jovial tenor in his voice.  

Natalie throat swelled as she turned and saw Scotty Kelly standing in clear view, as though months hadn’t passed.  Appearing next to him was the very unique, beautiful, well-dressed Asha Castile; of who long work hours, sleepless nights, and ambiguous stress factors did not seem to effect.  

Silent and moved to react strongly, Natalie lunged toward them with tear-smeared cheeks and a smile that made her entire body ache with nostalgia.  The tears of joy hiccupped through her, rippling past the trauma that the new environment had brought her.  

She embraced them as tightly as she could, kissing each of their cheeks with aberrant open emotion. 

“Oh, my God,” Asha said, returning the tear-marked sentiment, stop their track along her cheeks.  “You look so beautiful.”  

“Hot damn it, baby girl,” Scotty said, pressing his lips into her forehead.  “Even as a pregnant, married woman, you look as beautiful as the first day Brandon and me laid eyes on you.” 

“Watch it, asshole.” 

Brandon’s teasingly protective disposition brought back so many memories.  

“I don’t understand.  Why are you here?” 

Asha locked her arm with Natalie’s.  “Brandon wanted it to be a surprise.  You’ve got us for three whole days.”  

“Yea, baby girl.  We can do baby shit.  Go shopping and shit.  Go hiking and shit.  Shit people from Oregon do.” 

Natalie laughed. 

Asha pulled her closer.  “And you must introduce me to all of the fine men of Portland.  Especially ones with green eyes.” 

Her oldest friend was looking at something.  Following her gaze’s direction, Natalie spotted Bellamy Lambert, standing a cautious distance, holding Natalie’s black pea coat. 

“Hello, everyone.  Sorry to interrupt.  Nat, you left this in my truck.” 

Brandon placed his empty beer bottle down on the bar and walked closer.  

Asha, in her beautiful boldness, extended her hand in Young Lambert’s direction.  

“Asha Rosalie Castile.  New Orleans.  Loyal friend of Brandon and Natalie.  And you are?” 

“Bellamy Lambert,” Natalie interjected.  “And he was just leaving.” 

“No,” Brandon replied.  “Let him stay.  I’ll let the hostess know we have one more joining us.  Welcome, Bellamy.” 

DAMN IT.  

Natalie was sitting next to Brandon and his hand was on her thigh.  He was claiming her.  Silent, tender, protective squeezes.   It was the promise of sex later.  

She needed to be put in her place.  

She appreciated the uncomfortable expression lodged on Bellamy’s face.  Served him right for his actions.  He pieced over some Cuban bread, stabbing at the diced tomatoes, gazing downward, pensive.   She ogled him far longer than she thought appropriate, but no one seemed to notice.  

Asha was staring at Bellamy, too.  And Scotty was staring at her.  

She was on mojito number two, leaning into him brazenly.   “So, Bellamy.”

“Yes…Asha…is it?” 

“Yes.  How are you?”

Bellamy attempted a smile.  “I’m fine…and yourself?” 

“I’m good.  Trying to get over this jetlag.  These drinks are helping.  Are you originally from Portland?”

Natalie utilized her long, slender legs that had not yet been seized by Harper’s development.  “Asha Rosalie.” 

She said this through clenched teeth.  She knew that her friend had heard, but had chosen to ignore.  

Bellamy seemed amused by her bald-faced disposition.  Natalie watched transfixed.  Brandon leaned into his wife and kissed her ear – she was sure that she felt his tongue.  

“No, I was born in Marseille.  My family moved to the States when I was very little.” 

“So, you speak French?” 

“Yes.” 

Suddenly Asha flooded the table with her very-Creole French lilt.  Bellamy stared at her.  Then he stared at Natalie.  

She shrugged indifferently.  She felt it coming.  The onslaught of covetousness was inevitable.  

And she wallowed in it piteously.  

“You speak French?” 

Scotty chuckled haughtily.  “She likes to think she does.” 

“Scotty’s always been too much of an asshole.” 

“I only speak the truth, baby.” 

The affectionate proclamation “baby” was tightfisted.  Bellamy was wise to take heed.  

He seemed unresponsive to life forms outside of himself anyway.  

Brandon wrapped his arm around Natalie’s shoulder.  “My apologies, Mr. Lambert.  This is their customary affection toward each other.  It’s been that way for years.  Isn’t that right, baby?” 

Brandon pressed his lips into her temple.  They lingered there for a while.  Suddenly, she was afraid to be alone with him.   But she needed it.  She needed to be fucked back into place.  

Natalie nodded anyway.  It was best to comply.  

Scotty jeered.  “This is coming from the same two people we’ve had to put up with for the last ten years.  Ash and me could write eight novels on what not to do in a relationship.”   

Brandon and Natalie locked eyes. 

Asha pursed her lips.  “I’m inclined to agree with Scotty on this one.  Still love you, though.” 

Brandon picked up his bottle of beer.  “Ash, I see that you’ve finally chosen a side.” 

“Brandon Greene, you chose a side when you put a ring on Nat’s finger.” 

“Best decision I’ve ever made.” 

The inside of Natalie sank deep – she was sure that Bellamy caught it.  And Brandon planted a kiss on her lips.  She tasted the fluency in him.  

Everything he was, she owned.  

“I’ve only known Natalie a few months and their relationship has trumped any other I’ve witnessed in quite some time.  Kudos.” 

Natalie reached up to fold a few strands of Brandon’s hair behind his ear.  “I won’t take that blatant sarcasm personally.” 

If all of her other love for him failed, she would always fall victim to his perfectly black, perfectly thick, undulating hair.  

Zuly smiled facetiously.  “You’re welcome.” 

Bellamy lifted his glass of chardonnay to his lips.  “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”

Then, he drank.  And Brandon cleared his throat.  “Tell me, Bellamy.  Are you seeing anyone?” 

Natalie stood to her feet.  “Dancing!  Let’s go dancing!” 

Scotty snorted.  “Nat, I’ve heard of pregnancy hormones before…but damn.” 

“No, I’m serious.  I don’t think we’ve all danced together since the wedding.” 

“Well…I don’t dance.”  She chose to ignore Zuly’s sarcastic lilt.  

“Well…you’re going to tonight.  C’mon, guys.  How often do we see each other anymore?  Brandy, damn it, help me out.” 

“Whatever the wife wants, the wife gets.  Let’s pay so we can get the hell out of here.” 

Bellamy reached into his back pocket.  “I know this great little spot a couple of miles away.  Everyone stow your wallets.  Dinner’s on me.”  

“BRANDON, WHY ARE YOU BEING SO SENSITIVE ABOUT THIS?”

She was in her husband’s truck.  Scotty and Asha were in the backseat, listening silently. 

“I just don’t understand guys like him, that’s all.” 

“Just because he wanted to buy our dinner?” 

“The bill had to be over three hundred dollars.  We each had twenty-dollar entrees and countless cocktails.” 

“So?” 

“He sure was pretty.” 

Brandon eyed Asha in the rearview mirror.  “Ash, baby, you’re not helping.” 

“Sorry.  Just stating the obvious.  Him and Zuly aren’t involved?” 

Natalie shook her head.  “No, Zuly’s very much so a lesbian.  Just got out of a serious something with one of the nurses.” 

“Intense,” Asha mused.  “So he’s not seeing anyone?” 

Natalie’s heart felt heavy.  “Not that I’m aware.  We don’t share those types of details.  I only see him at the hospital.  I’m closer to his father than I am to him.”

Brandon tightened his grip on the steering.  “Seriously, who just drops a stack like that?  In front of strangers? Pathetic.” 

“Brandon, please.” 

Her husband huffed.  “Sorry, baby.”  Then he reached for her hand.  He squeezed it tightly.  Her fingers grazed his crotch comfortingly.  He readjusted his position in the seat and exhaled.  

They met Bellamy and Zuly outside of Nola’s Room.  Brandon stood in front of his wife protectively.

Natalie looked at Bellamy.  “What is this place?” 

“Well, do you remember that time you complained about Portland radio stations playing ‘black’ music that lacks variety?” 

Natalie nodded.  

“Well…this place takes care of that.  With a live band.  Asha, would you like to dance with me?”

Bellamy Lambert extended his hand.  With an unanswered gaze of glee, Asha met his hand with hers and they walked in together. 

Natalie stood by idly, fighting the well-hidden urge to murder Asha Castile.  

The interior was lit organically by candlelight, and their collective scent filled the room.  It couldn’t have been safe from a fire marshal’s perspective, but brought something for more natural to the scene.  Small, tall round tables lined the parameter of the room, flanked with tiny floral centerpieces, better dressed than any wedding she’d ever attended.  There was the sound of strayed fingers lingering over piano keys, unkempt harmonies and pensive droppings of notes here and there, as the band assembled in the furthest part of the room.  

And for some reason this prompted Natalie to look in Bellamy’s direction.  He was looking back.  His thought process was unreadable.  With furrowed brows and an irregular heartbeat, she turned away, reaching for her husband’s hand.  

Again, Bellamy went for his wallet.  “I’m heading to the bar.  What can I get everyone?  First round’s on me.” 

Brandon dropped Natalie’s hand.  “Hold up a second, I’ll join you.  Natalie, you feel okay?  Want a ginger ale or something?” 

“No, baby, I’m fine.”  

Then, the two of them shuffled through the crowd until they disappeared.  

Asha instinctively reached for her, tugging her to the first available table.  “Good, he’s finally gone.  Let’s catch up.” 

“He’ll be back in less than five minutes.”

“All the more reason why you shouldn’t waste my time.”

Zuly and Scotty followed Brandon and Bellamy to the bar.  

“Don’t you want a drink?” 

“Scotty knows what I like.  So, how’s everything since he found out about the job?” 

“Better.”

“The sex?” 

“Asha!”

“Nat, please…spare me the innocence.” 

Natalie rolled her eyes as though mimicking an indolent child.  “He still has the sex drive of an eighteen-year-old boy, but the shocking wherewithal of a bachelor well into his thirties.” 

Asha nodded contemplatively.  “Well I guess he has to assert his manhood someway.  You know…since you undercut it.” 

Natalie grumbled, shuffling uncomfortably in her seat.  “You don’t know the half of it.  If you had seen the look on his face…”

“I didn’t need to.  I heard his voice on the phone.  For a split second, I seriously thought he was going to kill you.” 

“Ash, please.  I’m sure the thought never crossed his mind.  Still…we both did some things that night that I care to never think about ever again.” 

“Care to elaborate.”

“No, I don’t.  I just pray that we never go through something like that again.  I don’t know if we can recover as strongly the next time.” 

“Yea right.  Your love for each other metastasizes faster than a STD.”  

“Gee, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”