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  “Jordan, hey, how are you?” She really doesn’t want me to answer this. How does she think I am? The love of my life just killed herself. She was sick and I failed to get her help. I failed to protect her. Now I’ll never see her again. I don’t even bother rolling over to meet my mom’s gaze.

  Her voice takes on a sympathetic tone. “Hon, I’ve asked Maria to make pancakes and eggs. It’ll be ready when you come down.” The door clicks closed right after she finishes.

  Now I roll over and stare at the door without really seeing it. When Susan was here, I had direction. We knew where we were going, what we wanted to accomplish. Now what am I supposed to do?

  After an hour of staring at nothing and trying to keep my mind blank, I dress in a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt. With great effort I climb down the circular staircase. As I cross into the kitchen, the bright colors on the walls seem even more blinding than usual. Maria, their housekeeper, is standing at the stainless stove with her back to me. I pull out a chair at the small round table, which is perfectly situated in the corner. Maria turns at the sound of the chair legs against the marbled floor. She quickly looks through the doorway to her right and back at me with a worried expression, as if she’s in trouble.

  She whispers, “Sir, you should join your parents in the dining room. You shouldn’t be in here. This is for the help.” She gestures to the table I’m leaning against.

  Her sudden concern alerts me that my parents have made changes around here. Why am I not surprised? Just to spite them, I plop down in the chair, expressionless. “Maria, I think I’ll have breakfast in here. Just like old times.”

  She still looks frightened, which I don’t want, but I’m not moving. Through my whole childhood I ate in this kitchen with Maria, and before her, Remy. If the kitchen was good enough for me back then, it’s good enough for me now. She looks away and trudges to the stove to gather whatever has now started to emit small puffs of smoke.

  A newspaper is folded on the other side of the table. I can see Susan’s smiling face plastered across the front. I slowly reach across to pick it up but before I can grasp it, my mom grabs the flimsy paper and hugs it to her chest as if her life depends on it. She meets my eyes with anger and turns, chastising Maria. "Maria, I told you to tell Jordan we were in the dining room.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Mom, don’t give her a hard time. She told me where you were, I chose to sit here.”

  She straightens up and moves the paper behind her body. “Well then, Jordan, join us and have some coffee. Maria will bring your meal in.”

  Scooting further back in my chair, I rest my arms on the edge of the table while crossing them in defiance. “No, Mom, I think I’ll have breakfast here.”

  Then I scoot my chair back and make my way to the coffee pot to pour a cup. She watches as if my actions are unheard of. When did she become such a snob?

  As I settle back into my chair, Maria places a plate in front of me. I glance up into her face. “Thank you, Maria. I’m starved and this looks wonderful.” She nods and backs away, turning to clean up the mess on the counters. My parents make their way into the kitchen a few minutes later and sit across from me, both with stern expressions. The newspaper has mysteriously disappeared.

  My dad pipes up, “Jordan, how about a round of golf today?”

  Really? This is how it’s going to go? They want to pretend like it never happened. Like Susan never existed. I shake my head in response and concentrate on my food.

  Next my mom speaks up apprehensively. “I was thinking maybe we could go and talk to someone, a counselor to help you through this.”

  This deserves a response and not a good one. I look up and meet her serious, unblinking gaze. “I think maybe I just need some time.” My voice increases in volume as I glance between them. “For God’s sake, she just died. I just lost her and you’re pretending like it didn’t happen. Don’t act like everything is fine, because it’s not. Don’t tell me to move on or that I need to talk to someone. Give me some time. ” My breathing becomes strangled. “Susan was everything to me. I just need time.”

  My mom winces with each word I bark. I don’t have the energy to care at this point. I understand they’re trying and most of the time they mean well. Their offer to let me stay here for a while was just that because I can’t go back home yet. I can’t face the apartment right now that is full of so many memories.

  ***

  After almost a month of drowning my sorrows, my dad finds me sitting out by the cobblestoned pool deck. The air is warm and dry. Probably a nice day for a swim, it just requires too much motivation and energy, neither of which I have.

  “Jordan, hey son.” He looks at my hand grasping a small glass and then at his watch. It’s only eleven in the morning, as good a moment as any to have a drink.

  He gestures to the chair across the wooden table from me. I nod and lift my glass to my lips. My eyes briefly spot the clear blue sky beyond the wide-brimmed umbrella blocking the bright sun.

  “I think it might be time, son. It’s been a month. Maybe you should be getting back to the apartment.” He stumbles over his words but gains in conviction. “Jordan, I think you need to go back home and start living again.”

  Once he finishes, resentment settles in my mind. “Are you kicking me out?”

  “No, son, not really. You don’t really live here. Remember, you have a home waiting for you and…you need to take care of things. You know you’re always welcome here. I think the strain of all of this is getting to your mom.”

  I look at him incredulously and down the last of my drink. The strain is getting to my mom. Unbelievable. I’m the one who lost Susan and my mom is strained. I abruptly stand, knocking the chair backwards. Not bothering to pick it up, I march up to the house, climbing the stairs to the porch, making my way back into the house to gather my things. If I’m not welcome here, I’ll find somewhere I am.

  As I stomp my feet up the stairs, I remember when I used to do the same thing as a little boy and Maria tried to discipline me. I was rotten then and things haven’t really changed.

  My mom is coming down the hall as I turn into my room. Placing my bag on the bed, I load the small amount of clothing that I have here. She hovers in the doorway asking worriedly, “Jordan, what are you doing?”

  I look back at her, glaring, but I don’t respond. After a moment my eyes revert back to gathering my things. She hurriedly asks, “Did your dad tell you to leave?” She strolls in and grabs my arm, gently pleading, “Honey, you can stay as long as you want. I told your father you just need time. He thinks you need to face things and move on. Jordan? He doesn’t know what you need.”

  I yank my arm out of her grasp and growl, “I’ll be out in a few minutes. I don’t want to put any strain on you.”

  She looks away, appalled, and calls out as she leaves down the hall, “Don’t go, I’m going to get your father. You can stay as long as you want.” Her voice fades as she travels down the stairs.

  A minute later the bag is on my shoulder and I’m climbing down the steps two at a time. My parents cut me off as I’m leaving out of the side door from the garage. Tears are streaming down my mom’s cheeks as she pleads with me, “Jordan, please stay. Your father didn’t mean what he said. We both want whatever is best for you.”

  I raise my eyes to meet my dad’s, he looks at my mom and says simply, “See, it’s just too much.”

  My mom turns to him and yells, “What did you tell him? We can’t lose him. Tell him he can stay.”

  At this point my irritation has subsided. I realize now what my dad means. My sadness and mourning have taken her over and it’s affecting their relationship. As much as I don’t want to face things, I know deep down he’s right. It’s still so new but I need to at least try. This isn’t fair to them.

  “Mom, it’s okay. I need to go. Don’t be mad at him.”

  Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around her from behind and kiss her cheek. She twists in my arms, step
ping out of my grasp. “At least let us come with you. It’s going to be tough to go home. If we’re there with you, it might be easier.”

  I nod to acknowledge her. “I know, Mom, but I need to do this alone.”

  I shake my dad’s hand and turn to climb into my car. As I maneuver the car down the long, winding drive to the gates, a deep dread settles over me. I can’t let myself waste away anymore. I have to face things. Everything in me wants to go back to that room I had as a child and avoid my life but that’s not an option anymore.

  Chapter Ten

  Kimber

  The lot is nearly empty as I pull in and the rain has reduced to a steady trickle. No one is going to venture out on a Monday night in this weather. My tips will surely suffer. After running across the lot, umbrella in tow, I push open the wide wooden doors. The smoky air surrounds me like a fly attracted to a bright lamp. I rub my nose uncomfortably, noting that this is definitely one habit I will never take up.

  Once behind the bar, Becca finds me to announce her latest escapade. Apparently Tyler is out and Jacob is in. I called it, two days was all it took. She turns on her heel when I don’t give her the response she was hoping for. This girl changes men faster than she changes underwear, there’s no excitement for me in that. The intervention thing is out the door, she would never listen to me. I, who haven’t even had sex in…I can’t even remember at this point.

  An hour passes without a grab at my ass or a whisper in my ear and I feel like I’m having withdrawals. Maybe Derek is really into my sister as he portrays. That prospect is one I don’t want to dwell on.

  Later, I’m having a conversation about the Dallas Cowboys with one of the regulars, who is completely drunk, anything to make the night go by faster. A high pitched voice calls down the bar, “Hey, barmaid, can’t a chick get a drink around here?”

  I turn towards Heidi’s voice, surprised she showed up. I make my way down to her, placing a beer in front of her with an encouraging smile. “Drink up.”

  She grins, taking a quick sip, then glances around. “This place is jammin’, huh?”

  It’s so dead, I could probably go home and let Derek close, however I can’t do that to him. I don’t want to. The scattered tables have a few parties and the bar is filled with maybe six regulars and Heidi. Worse than any night we’ve had in a long time.

  She leans forward, sneakily whispering, “Let’s do a shot.”

  I shake my head at her. “No, Heidi, you can have one but I can’t. Duck would have a fit.”

  “Oh come on, Kimber, live a little. He’s where, holed up in his office, right? He probably won’t even come out until it’s time to leave.”

  One of the regulars, Tommy, already pretty plastered, leans over and exclaims, “I’ll buy you girls a shot.”

  I sigh and put two shot glasses up, dusted with sugar, and pour vodka evenly in each. Without a word I place a lemon in Heidi’s open hand as she squeals with delight and calls out, “Lemon drop time.”

  We each grab one, grinning as she toasts, “To Mr. Hottie for Kimber, wherever he may be.” At that we both down them and slam the glasses on the bar.

  Tommy claps his hands amused and calls out, “Again, girls, on me.”

  I shake my head, gathering the glasses to wash them. Before I can take them any further, Derek comes up behind me, removing them from my hands and places them back up on the bar in front of Heidi. He expertly sugars them and pours another for each of us. As he faces me, placing mine in my hand, he says, “I know things are tough right now, you deserve to let go a little even if you have to be here at work. I’ll take the wrath if Duck comes out.”

  Heidi calls out, “Cheers to that, dude,” and downs it.

  I raise my hand to Derek, saluting, following Heidi. He pours another as I suck on the lemon. My eyes go up, surprised, as he explains, “Just one more, Kimber. It’s okay, you should go and sit with Heidi. I’ll close tonight.”

  I realize that the two I’ve already had are starting to hit my empty stomach, I decide not to argue. It’s not every night Heidi graces us with her presence. I make my way to Heidi’s side and lean against the bar.

  Tommy pipes up, holding up his cigarette burnt all the way down to his knuckles, “This is the highlight of the day, sexy girls and shots, on me again.”

  I look at Derek and gesture with my finger cutting across my neck, letting him know, Tommy’s cut off. He nods as I lift the shot to match Heidi’s. As the glass touches my lips a voice questions behind me, “Aren’t you going to wait for me?”

  I lower the glass from my lips before the vodka touches, surprised but also terrified. Heidi calls out, smiling from ear to ear, never moving her gaze from mine, “Hey, Derek, I think we might need another. ‘Mr. Hottie’ just arrived.”

  I turn swiftly and meet Andrew’s green gaze. His full lips are turned up in a smile, highlighting his strong, chiseled jaw. He leans in to grab the shot from Derek, just brushing my shoulder. The close proximity with his wonderful smell is going to make me fall on the floor. My hand finds the back of a bar stool to steady myself. He holds his glass up, staring at me. “To old friends,” he declares.

  Heidi and I both salute and gulp our shot. When I raise the lemon to my mouth, he watches with heavy lidded eyes. What the hell? He leans down while I suck on my lemon a little longer than necessary and whispers in my ear, “You look really good, Kimber.”

  I stare up at him while abruptly removing the lemon to toss it on the bar, and straighten up, moving an inch away. Heidi’s laughter breaks our connection. She announces, “Derek, I think we need another. This shit is getting good. Who woulda thought this place could be so entertaining on a rainy Monday night.”

  Turning, I glare daggers at her, which just causes more laughter. Andrew places his hand over mine. At his touch my heart speeds up and nervous energy courses through me. He places his other hand on my shoulder. “Calm down, Kimber. We’re just two old friends getting reacquainted.”

  This acknowledgement from him turns my stomach, so I grab for another shot and down it, not bothering with the lemon this time. Derek chastises, “Hang on there, Kimber, I wasn’t even finished pouring them.”

  I slam it back down next to the other two and tell him, “Fill it up again.”

  Derek smiles as he readies them, admitting, “I won’t be telling your sister about this, she would kill me.”

  The alcohol coursing through me is starting to affect my inhibitions. I climb up on the bar step, leaning across and place my hand under his chin, forcing him to look at me and exclaim in a menacing tone, “Derek, you tell and I’ll have to kill you.”

  Andrew starts laughing behind me. This brings me back down to reality. I step down and turn to look up at him. The closeness of the stools has us only inches apart. I want nothing more than to attach myself to him but the memory of earlier in the day at the college, forces me to hold back. He’s definitely sending mixed messages.

  Derek pours three more and offers, “Here you go, guys, last one.”

  I inch onto the closest bar stool and decline. “No more for me, Derek, you do one with them.”

  As Andrew throws his head back, I admire the smooth skin covering his Adam’s apple. I lean forward, wanting to kiss my way over it. He looks down, slamming his glass to the bar and meets my gaze just a whisper away. I swear I was moving toward him without even realizing it. When he notices, his eyebrows go up in surprise. I cower back, never tearing my eyes from his.

  Heidi announces, “Well, guys, I think the Duck has had enough of this girl. I’m gonna head home.”

  I turn quickly to her and mumble under my breath, “No, don’t leave me.”

  She places her hand on my shoulder and leans into my ear, “Kimber Maguire, if you don’t hit that, I will.”

  Sometimes her crudeness takes me by surprise but this time, a feeling rushes through me that resembles jealousy. She must see it in the look on my face because she tells me before turning to go, “Relax, it’s all you. I won’
t steal him. Like I said before, this is something you need right now. Just let it happen.”

  I watch her all the way to the door, my eyes still lingering on it after she’s gone. Andrew breaks my trance with his breath on my bare throat. “Kimber, I want you to know that after you broke it off, I still thought about you every day.”

  His admission causes me to turn my head to meet his stare. I’m surprised but also a little foggy. The alcohol is really hitting me. His hand moves to the spot where his breath warmed me and goose bumps pop up all over my skin. He leans in again and asks, “Can we go somewhere?”

  My heart speeds up as I nod. That’s all I can manage at this point. He grabs my hand and squeezes it while turning to Derek. “Hey, Derek, is it all right if I take her home?”

  Derek looks at me with a questioning look. I nod my head at him and force a smile. Andrew is taking me home. Oh my! I think I’m having heart palpitations. But home where? Suddenly my heart stops beating and I panic. He can’t go to my home, not with Momma… I get up abruptly, which is a total mistake. My feet get all twisted and I lurch forward, heading straight for the edge of the bar. Andrew catches me just in time and chuckles, pulling me back against his hard chest. “Hang on there, killer. I’ll help you up. Maybe shots weren’t such a good idea.”

  He tosses a small wad of bills on the bar and tells Derek, “Thanks, dude.”

  Then he turns, placing his arm around me, barely holding my side. There it goes again, that pulsating feeling. I just want to jump his bones.

  Once we leave the bar, he leads me to his car, a black 1967 Camaro. He always pined for this car through high school. I smile that he finally got it. The rain has stopped, leaving puddles scattered across the lot.

  He leads me to the passenger side and reaches for the handle. I can’t take it any longer. I reach up to grab his shirt and pull his six foot frame down to me, devouring his lips. At first he’s hesitant but quickly he pushes his tongue forcefully into my mouth, mixing the taste of lemon with his incredible smell. I think I’ll die and go to heaven right now. His mouth moves perfectly with mine, as if we haven’t been apart for four years. His hands move from holding me up to pushing me back against the car. They find my sides, slowly gliding down to my hips, caressing the skin just beneath my shorts, around my waist, and finally down to my ass. Never breaking our connection, he lifts me up, putting more pressure on me against the car. I wrap my legs around his waist, groaning into his mouth at the bulge in his pants pushing against my sex. This just makes his hands move further down my thighs, inching slightly into the edge of my cutoffs. My hands move up his chest, which through the thin material of his t-shirt feels so good, hard and defined. I imagine kissing my way around his chest and other places. My hands inch up and make their way to his short, jet black hair. I run them through it, savoring his taste, enjoying this way more than I thought was possible. I bite his lower lip, making him moan into my mouth. His hands slide further into my shorts, so close. Anticipation is a wonderful thing. He breaks our kiss and starts kissing his way down my neck and my breathing hitches. I mumble, “Andrew, I want you.”