The Cornerstone (17 page)

Will:
If cats weren’t assholes, it wouldn’t be that difficult

Will:
And if you’ll calm your tits, I’ll tell you something

Shannon:
Spare me the suspense.

Will:
I had a double major. Art history and finance.

Shannon:
Is that so? Did you always want to be Charlotte York from Sex and the City when you grew up?

Will:
Do you ever take a break from ripping assholes?

Shannon:
Nope. I have bullshit to call and standards to enforce.

Will:
Now tell me something else

Shannon:
I once dated a guy who always carried a tin of sardines with him. He kept them in his shirt pocket and ate them before meals. Like an appetizer

Will:
Nope. Not weird at all

Shannon:
I have a track record with the weird and weirder

Will:
I’m not weird.

Shannon:
You are the weirdest

Will:
Mmm I think you are. In a hot way.

Shannon:
Fuck you

Will:
You have no idea how much I’d love to

Shannon:
Yeah? Maybe you should call me. Tell me.

*

Fourteen months ago

The rational part
of me knew this game of insult-foreplay Shannon and I were playing was getting out of hand when it transcended secret weekends and snark-filled texts. The irrational part of me—the one that served at the pleasure of my cock—couldn’t get enough. It started with wanting to hear her hurl obscenities at me rather than reading them over text messages, and it turned into me detailing how I’d fuck her if I was there.

Short answer: thoroughly.

Another time, I caught her while she was reviewing financial statements, and in some very strange, very desperate turn of events, my pathetic ass demanded she tell me about them. She did…in the sexiest voice conceivable. Thank God I wasn’t sharing a bunk with anyone that night because I came like a geyser when she started talking about cash flow and asset ratios.

Soon, it turned into talking her through an orgasm that I ached to taste plus odd details about our days, or her critique of Judd Apatow films or my reminders to lock her doors. I learned she ate brunch with my sister most Saturdays after they visited the farmers’ market, and she only watched reruns because she found it too time-consuming to keep up with new programs. She was handling an exclusive remodeling project for a musician, or as she preferred to call it,
her
classified mission.

She heard about my near-religious reverence for fish tacos and college football. She knew I
technically
lived with my parents in Coronado, in the cozy blue bungalow they bought almost forty years ago when the only things on the island were the Hotel Del and the naval amphibious base.

We still gave each other a
ton
of shit
all
the time but…I missed her when we didn’t connect.

*

Will:
True story – my brother had drinks with your sister today

Will:
In Italy

Shannon:
Run that by me again

Shannon:
My sister, Erin?

Will:
And my brother, Wes

Will:
Apparently, they know a lot of the same places overseas, and were in the same area. They’re hanging out now

Shannon:
That’s Erin. Making friends everywhere she goes

Shannon:
You’re sure he’s gay?

Will:
Positive.

Will:
She gave him a tour of a volcano.

Shannon:
That’s special.

Will:
He seemed to think so. She took him to an old school mafia speakeasy where, says Wes, they treat her like family

Will:
Or whatever the Italian equivalent of a speakeasy is

Will:
Maybe they were at a mafia den, and if that’s the case, we should talk about whether your sister is actually deep cover foreign intelligence

Shannon:
She is so odd

Will:
Odd is one way to put it

Will:
Is there a short explanation on the odd?

Will:
I’m game for the long explanation too

Shannon:
there’s a thing. I don’t want to talk about it

Will:
A thing?

Will:
Did you kill a guy in Reno?

Shannon:
Something along those lines.

Will:
But you don’t talk anymore. You and Erin.

Shannon:
No

Will:
Stretch that out for me

Shannon:
Nooooooo

Will:
You’re fucking comedy, peanut.

Shannon:
I’m not getting into it with you. Stuff happened, things were said. She’s happiest when I’m not part of her life.

Will:
So the cone of silence is her choice?

Shannon:
I’m not getting into this with you.

Will:
On a scale of chicken on a bone to that C word you dislike so much, where does this fall?

Will:
Still there?

Will:
Ok so it’s up there. Understood.

*

Will:
You know, your blowjobs have ruined me

Shannon:
…are you drunk?

Will:
No. Nostalgic.

Shannon:
While also being drunk?

Will:
No.

Will:
But I am thinking about your mouth on my cock

Shannon:
Seems unwise

Will:
Trust me, so unwise.

Shannon:
You know what’s amusing about your balls?

Will:
Amusing?

Will:
I don’t think amusing is the word I’d go with, but please, share.

Shannon:
They’re aging well. They’re in good shape for an old man like you. They haven’t given up yet. You know, all those white hairs make it a distinguished dick. Like George Clooney.

Will:
Come on. You say that to all the boys.

Shannon:
Erroneous

Shannon:
Are you thinking about my mouth on your balls now?

Will:
Nah, I’m not into that

Shannon:
And how do you know I’m not?

Will:
I know how freaky you are

Shannon:
Oohhhh so you know me now? Like, you understand my wants, desires, and dreams?

Shannon:
Be honest: are you actually a fortuneteller? Instead of reading palms, you read pussy? Is that a commando tactic?

Will:
Dudes are exactly as freaky as their women let them be.

Shannon:
Don’t intend to alarm you or anything, but I’m not your woman.

Will:
Ahhhhh peanut. You have ruined me.

*

Shannon:
This Chicago thing isn’t going to happen

Will:
Cute

Shannon:
Excuse me?

Will:
I find that statement cute. Like unicorns and fairies and other imaginary bullshit

Will:
Explain to me why this isn’t going to happen

Shannon:
I’m slammed with work for a new project. I’m dealing with a high-maintenance owner who happens to have his own PR squad and as luck would have it, they’re even more high maintenance than he is. I spend 80% of my day on the phone with these ass-lickers

Will:
Fuck that noise

Shannon:
Believe me. I’ve tried.

Shannon:
Plus – Sam is getting an award for one of his restorations this weekend

Will:
Bravo to Sam

Will:
I’ll see you Friday

Will:
And don’t pack any panties, unless you want to spend the entire weekend handing them over

SHANNON

Twelve months ago

I
probably wouldn’t
admit it to anyone, but I missed insulting Will in person.

I was looking forward to enslaving his cock for the weekend.

And now…I was going to strangle him. That bastard was going down.

I’d delegated tasks to Tom that were a couple of rungs above his level. I’d bought new lingerie, even though I hated spending that much money on underwear. I
waxed
.

And Will didn’t show up.

There was some explanation that I was not interested in hearing, and I’d spent the weekend in Chicago ordering room service, drinking wine straight from the bottle, and watching a
Law and Order: SVU
marathon in my room at The Langham. All the anticipation I’d collected over the past months shattered, but I was still holding the shards. It was the worst combination of sexual frustration, abandonment, and rejection I’d ever experienced. I was totally fucking miserable.