Fix It for Us (20 page)

I have tears welling up behind my eyes and a huge lump in my throat. “I…I think it is the sweetest thing I have ever seen.  I think you and I are the only ones that will understand it…”

“Nobody else needs to understand it.”

I agree, “Exactly… It’s strange and beautiful and perfect.”  I want to touch it, but I know it is still sore
and the area needs to stay free from germs.  There will be plenty of time to run my fingers over it – for the rest of our lives.  The thought makes me smile.

Davis is watching me look at his tattoo and when I gaze up at him he asks, “Happy?”

“Really, really happy. You?”

“Yes, I’
m happiest when I am with you.  I find it amazing how I feel like I always will be… happy… like nothing can hurt us now,” Davis muses.

I swallow a few times.  Small, almost undetectable swallows.  I
have a nagging sensation of anxiety I haven’t had in a while, but I push it down.  Davis is right.  Things are really good.  I need to manage my panic.  Own it.  Don’t let it own me.  I don’t know why that feeling just washed over me. Weird.

Davis reapplies the bandage over his newly modified
tattoo and then places both hands flat on the sofa on either side of my thighs.  “Well?”  Davis queries, “aren’t you going to continue?  Was the tattoo that distracting?”

I laugh and sock him on the bicep, lightly.  The right one.  I don’t want to get too close to the tattoo.  “I remember where I was, thank you very much…I was just wondering how careful I should be about the bandage and the tattoo?”

“Let me worry about that,” Davis chuckles and then slides his recently absent hands from my knees, up my thighs, to grasp me purposefully at my hips and then thrust himself against me.

“Ok
ay…Deal.” With that settled I move ahead with removing Davis’ shirt and kissing every square inch of his muscular shoulders and strong chest (kissing around the bandage), every now and then coming up to bite and nip at his lips and chin.  He is just letting me – letting me slowly devour him, humming with each touch.  He is not kissing back, just running his hands up and down my haunches and pulling us closer together down there.  Generally, his hands are all over me, so much so that I can’t remember where they’ve been from moment to moment, but tonight we are going at a slow, steady, luxurious pace.  I am on fire.

Davis grabs the back of my neck tightly with one hand and my hip with the other and in a smooth, sudden move has me on my back on the sofa.  He is above me, his pelvis crushing into mine, rotating, pushing, stoking the growing burn
ing in my panties.  He leans over me, his forearms on either side of my head, his fingertips in my hair, rubbing the strands together.  Davis bends his face down toward my ear and husks, “Mmmm, so soft.”  I think my entire face and scalp blush with anticipation, I feel so tingly.

I want him to feel the same, so I slide my hands down the back of his jeans, over his boxers and grasp his firm ass, pulling it even closer, “Mmmm, so hard,”  I tell him, mimicking his phrase.
  I slide my hands around to the front, still in between his jeans and boxers.

“And getting harder,”
Davis adds.

I quickly pull my hands out and then go after the button and zipper of his jeans.  There is way too much fabric between us, even though I am enjoying the delicious friction it causes between my legs.  I quickly peel the remainder of his clothes down his thighs
.  He lost his shoes and socks somewhere during our sofa wrestling, so he kicks his jeans and boxers off with relative ease.  There he is above me, in nothing but a bandage and a smirk.

Evidently, it’s my turn to be undressed, because as soon as his jeans hit the floor, Davis grasps the bottom of my dark red tank top and causes it to vanish up and over my
head.  I am lying there in just my bra, panties and white jean shorts one minute and the next minute my Houdini-fiancé has caused them to disappear too.  After taking care of all of that, Davis slides himself up my body, using his hands to stretch my arms above my head.  He takes both my wrists in one hand, so I am mildly restrained.  I have to say, I enjoy it.  I bring my legs up and around to wrap around his, rubbing against the backs of his calves.

My eyes widen suddenly and I stop moving.  I just realize Kathleen has not moved out and could come home any
time.  I move to sit up, but am stuck. “Davis!”  My voice changes, no longer are my words warm and gooey, but shrieky, “We can’t do this here… We have got to move to the bedroom… ”  Davis is kissing my neck and shoulders, his hands are trying to pull my legs further up.

He tries to calm me, “We’re fine
…”

“But … She … They … Smitty could see …”

“We are fine, Lizard.  Kathleen is staying at her new place with Smitty tonight.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief and then almost immediately a
groan, as Davis has succeeded in getting my legs open further, placing them up and around his lower back.  His rigidity is sliding against my slickness.  “I thought we were going to kiss some more,” Davis says, raising one eyebrow and a corner of his mouth.

“Uh…
okay.”  I raise an eyebrow right back and press my hands more insistently against his butt, urging him into me.  And he does.  He sinks into me with a low, deep growl that makes me shiver.  I was completely ready for him.  More than ready… the build up to getting here feels like it’s taken forever.  There is no waiting now, Davis is pounding into me, clutching at me, his arms encircling my head, holding tight.  I am rotating my pelvis wildly, attempting to keep up.  I feel myself get close to falling in and then moving away from release.  Then, I feel it…it’s so close.  I bring one hand to the top of my head.  Davis snatches it and pins it with his.  My other hand stays on his lower back.  He matches that move with his own hand, bringing it under my hip, lifting me, tilting me up, pushing himself into me further with a powerful thrust.  Then all I perceive is our garbled, thick vocalizations of each other’s names. 

Davis stays inside me, rocking slowly and gentl
y as I come back to earth.  I’m vibrating from the inside out it seems.  He stares down at me, leans down and just before kissing me again, whispers against my lips, “My Lizard.”

Gently, I lay my palm agai
nst his bandaged chest.  He winces slightly and then grins.  I am still vibrating.

***

“Okay, Maid of Honor, you know the big news.  We only have a few weeks to pull this wedding off.  What first?”  Jules and I are meeting in the Weldon University cafeteria to talk about the wedding plans and catch up.  We chatted over the summer, but not had a chance for real “girl talk” in a while.

             
“Well, actually, first, you are going to have to stop calling me ‘Maid of Honor.’” Jules scolds.

             
“What? No, you
are not
backing out on me, are you?  ‘Cause, Jules, I need you.  I can’t do this.  I can’t get married without you.”

             
Jules has a huge crazy smile on her face and is shaking her head side to side.  “I can’t be your Maid of Honor – that would be deceitful.  And I, like you, am not going to hide anything or be deceitful, if I can help it, ever again.”  That sort of gets to me.  In my heart of hearts, I know I am still concealing a secret, but how can you be deceitful about something you’re not sure even happened?  I push the thought away and focus on Jules again to hear her announce, “I can be in your wedding, but only if I am your ‘MATRON of HONOR.’”

             
“Matron of … What? You’re Married?”

             
Jules shakes her head rapidly, like a bobble head Gwen Stephani, curls once again bouncing.  A giggle is welling up in her.

             
“To Charlie? … Right?”

             
“Yes, of course to Charlie.  Jeez, what are you thinking?”

             
“When?  How come you didn’t tell me?”

The truth comes out.  Charlie and Jules have been married since the beginning of my senior year at Weldon – their junior
year.  Before I met Davis.  Almost a year!  After spending the summer before their junior year wrapped up in each other, they knew.  Knew they wanted to be together always.  Build their dreams together – his band, her … I don’t really know what Jules’ career path is.  She is highly organized.  I can see her managing something or someone.  So, after three months in summer school together, they ran away – to Vegas.  Their first anniversary is on Labor Day.  Sneaky kids.  I congratulate her profusely and can’t seem to stop hugging her.  Everyone in the cafeteria must think I have lost my mind.  Actually, since I just told her about the wedding date, I have a good cover story in case anyone asks what I was squeeling about.  I make her tell me all the details about their wedding and how they have kept it a secret all this time.
              “So
that’s
what you meant about ‘a real wedding’ when Davis and I got engaged.  Wait, you’re still living with your parents.  How do you deal with that?” I ask.

Jules opens her eyes wide, shakes her h
ead and heaves a huge sigh, “It…is…killing me.  Why do you think I asked you to sign me into the dorm so much?  Why to you think I lied to them all the time and said I was with you when I was off with Charlie and Boxwood this summer.  I just have to finish college.  Then I can tell them.  They won’t understand and they will kill me, if they learn I got married before finishing school.  They are still just barely accepting Charlie as my boyfriend.”

“Okay, it’s our secret,” I reassure her.  “So we’ll both have to be deceitful a little while longer.  You’ll be listed in the program as Maid of Honor, I guess.”  Jules nods with a little resigned smile on her face. 
Trying to comfort her a bit, I say, “I wish you could tell them and everyone.”

Jules sighs again and tells me a bit sadly,
“Me, too.  You can’t tell anyone, not even Davis. Not yet.  Soon, but not quite yet.”  Jules’ tone and affect become more positive, “It will happen soon enough, but in the meantime, we have important things to do.  We have to go find a dress for you!” And then smiling widely and goofily adds, “and more importantly ME! If I am going to be a Matron of Honor, at least I am going to be a hot one.”

A pink flash appears in front of my eyes.  PJ
(and his hair) have joined us at the table.

He interrogates us as only PJ can.  “Okay, ladies, what’s going on?  There’s lots of giggling and shrieking going on over here.  I need the dirt, and I need it now.  Who’s ‘going to be a hot one’?  Spill.”

Jules and I shoot a surprised look at each other and then at PJ.  I wasn’t ready to have to fib just yet.  Having been in practice for almost a full year, Jules covers beautifully, “I’m going to be the hot one.  The hot BRIDESMAID, PJ. Davis and Biz have set a date – October 11
th
.  We have to go find dresses today.  Wanna come?”

PJ jumps up, comes around the table between us and with one arm around each of us, says, “Abso-fucking-lutely.  I am going t
o ensure you both look amazing, and I’ll need to see Biz’s dress to make the veil. Come on, ladies.  Let’s shop!”

Chapter 9-SEPTEMBER

Four hours.  I have been at KTTA for four hours and I already know.  I love it.  I love the energy, the excitement.  I love my new job.  Okay, I really don’t know what my entire job entails and so far the PA I’ve been shadowing, Henry, has pretty much just delivered papers and gotten coffee for the staff in the newsroom, but this place is amazing.  There is activity everywhere.  Newsroom staff uncovering stories via the internet or on the phone with sources, guests for the morning news show being escorted to the green room and the live show broadcasting on monitors all around the station.  I think this might be a great fit for me. My next stop is a quick lunch with Gail Patton, the producer to whom I will report.  Henry walks me to Gail’s office and knocks on the door for me.

“Come in!”  I hear Gail command loudly from behind the door.

Henry opens the door and ushers me in with a wave and then shuts the door behind me.  After taking a few steps in, I stop.  Gail is on a phone call and looking out the window behind her.  She turns in her chair, makes eye contact with me, gestures for me to come and sit in the chair in front of her desk and mouths “Come in, come in.”

I sit quietly on the edge of the chair, my knees together, hands folded on top of them.  I survey Gail’s office, moving only my eyes to take everything in.  I d
on’t want her to think I am nosy.  Gail has three, three! Emmy awards.  I am not close enough to see what they’re for.  I can also spot a few photographs of her with celebrities.

“
…Okay, okay, yes…yes we will look into covering it.”  Gail hangs up and switches her focus to me.  I stop my visual exploration of her space to give her my full attention.  “Biz, welcome to KTTA.”

I reply,  “Thank you for hiring me.  I’ve only been here a few hours and I am so impressed.”

“Well, Evan was very impressed with
your
work this summer at the theatre and I trust his judgment.  When he told me you were looking for work, it didn’t take me any time at all to remember meeting you in your Production class at Weldon.  You immediately struck me as real and personable.  Perfect for the kind of television I want to produce.  Are you at all interested in being on-camera or are you thinking just production?”

“I have never really considered on-camera other than acting, I’m not trained for television journalism.  I’m such a newbie, I guess I shouldn’t rule anything out, but I probably
should learn as much about the production end as I can before I jump into anything else.”  I just spit it out, without thought.  A typical Biz babble.

Gail is nodding her head with her fingers stee
pled in front of her, touching her lips, taking in my words.  “Hmm…very wise.  I think you have the right idea there, Biz.  I’m thinking I would like you to work in our Features area.  With your arts background and knowledge, associations with photographers, rock singers… sons of politicians… ” She
has
done her homework.  “… you would do well working on the Happening in the STL show.  It’s my pet project.  I’m very invested in it.  I created it and now produce it.  What do you think?”

“I, I’d be honored.  I’d love to work with you.  Thank you, Gail.”

Gail, after a moment and a closed lip smile, states wryly, “Don’t thank me yet, this production is a lot of work and it’s not exactly glamorous at the beginning.”

***

I get people coffee; a lot of coffee.  All day long.  Among other things.  I also assist with making sure guests are prepped and ready for their segments, ensuring the green room is stocked, sending copy to wherever it needs to go – the hosts, the teleprompter operator, the producers – and pretty much anything else that is asked of me.  Last week, in preparation for a segment about fall, Henry, the other PA on the show, and I drove across the river to an orchard and picked up apples, pumpkins and gourds.  I never know what the day will hold and I think that’s what I like best about being a production assistant.   That, and learning about television production at a breakneck pace.  We don’t cover the hard news on Happening in the STL, so I’m not up on what goes on in the newsroom.  We have a small news update segment created by the news production team and packaged for us to air during our broadcast.

About three
weeks into my new job, I’m in the office doing advance prep for a Halloween segment when my phone rings.  It’s Green Eyes by Coldplay.  Davis’ ringtone.  I’ve learned to keep my ringer on and answer when he calls.  Since the incident with Evan, Davis has been sure to stay in communication with me.  I don’t mind.  I actually feel calmer knowing where he is and when I will see him again. 
              “Hello, This is Biz” I answer.  I know he knows who it is and that I know who is calling.  I’m partially yanking his chain and partially trying to portray a professional attitude while at work, in case anyone is listening.

Davis chuckles down t
he line, “Yes, I know it’s you.  I, called you, Lizard Breath.”

I smile and laugh back, “That’s my ‘I work at a very important job’ voice.  You like?”

“I love.  And what, Little Lizard, very important thing are you doing right now?” he asks.

“Ummm…researching the best haunted houses in the Bi-State area AND the top ten Halloween costumes for the year on Pinterest.”  I reply, using my serious and important tone of voice.

Teasing me, Davis counters me, “Baby, that
is
very important.  I was going to come and steal you for lunch, but I don’t think I can pull you away from such important...”

I cut him off,  “No, no.  I have time.  I do.  Please come.  I would love to show you where I work and have you meet some people.  Um…how far away are you?”

“I’m about 10 minutes away.”

I give Davis instructions to call me when he gets to the parking lot
and I will make sure that he is let into the station.  After I call down to the security desk in the lobby to let them know I’m expecting a guest, I shut down what I am working on, bookmarking what I have been researching before I do.  I let Henry know I’m going out for lunch.  I figure Davis and I can go eat and then I can bring him back to see the station and meet everyone on Happening in the STL.  I gather my crossbody bag, grab my phone off the desk and head through the newsroom.  It’s just before the noon news, so the activity level is starting to gear up.  The newsroom is always busier than our office.  There is a bank of flat screen television monitors on one wall, broadcasting each of the local television stations, as well as a few cable news channels, on mute.  The audio broadcasting in the room is ours, the feed from KTTA.  There are more televisions scattered on the other walls showing the lead in graphics for KTTA News at Noon.  Davis’ ringtone alerts me and I answer, “Hello, Mavis,” while still attending to the monitors.  The anchors greet the television audience, telling them the time and date, then I see a familiar handsome face in a mugshot and hear:

Our top story this afternoon, local authorities have arrested this man, Neil Ireland, earlier today.  Mr. Ireland
, a teacher at a local Catholic All-Girls school, has been charged with multiple counts of sexual assault, transporting a minor over state lines for the purpose of sexual relations, and the production and distribution of pornography.  He is currently being held awaiting a bail hearing.  Police are also seeking information on the whereabouts of this man…

             
A picture of Randall flashes on the screen.

Randall Ireland, brother of Neil Ireland, is being sought for questioning
in his brother’s arrest.  At this time, he is not considered a suspect; police would simply like to question him.

             
Neil and Randall are… brothers?  How did I not know that?  My heart is pounding out of control.  I am sweating and freezing cold at the same time.  I look down at the phone in my hand, but can only focus on how much I am shaking – all over.  I hear, “Biz?  Biz?  You there?  Hey, I’m here.  I’ll check in and be up in a sec.”  I stare at the phone as if I don’t know what it is and then realize Davis is talking.  He’s here.  He’s going to see the story about Neil.  Oh my God, Neil?  Sexual assault?  And what’s all the stuff about crossing state lines and porn?  I feel very light-headed and nauseated.  I can’t breathe.  I want to run, but I cannot move.  Frozen.

Consciously, I know what is happening, but it doesn’t matter, I am pretty sure I am about to die.  Full-
blown panic is setting in.  There is no talking myself out of this, no mantra, no breathing.  I am in it.   Someone has taken my phone out of my hand, but I can’t tell who, because everything in my visual field tilts severely and then becomes smaller and smaller until it goes completely black.  I feel myself, still staring at the televisions, the continuing news story ringing, echoing in my ears, collapsing to the floor, my traitorous legs folding up underneath me.  I can’t see anything around me, but Neil’s face appears before me and then morphs into Randall’s.  Randall is so close.  He is grabbing me, kissing me violently, tearing at my clothes.  I shake my head and he is gone, but everything is black again.  My heart… is going to explode… I am sure of it.  I need to make myself breathe, but I don’t know how to control any of this.

             
I can hear voices in the distance moving toward me, but can’t see anything.  I think I hear someone say, “Yes…her phone.  Something’s wrong…She’s on the floor.  Yes, Yes, come up.”

              The blackness is fading.  Dim, shimmery light is beginning to creep into the periphery of my awareness.  I perceive that I am sitting up, my back against something hard, my legs bent into a star shape around me.  I look down to see my hands flat on my thighs.  I take a deep gulping breath and look up slowly.  I’m still dizzy, everything around me spinning, except a face.  I gasp out a cry.  Thank God, a face I know.  A face I love.  Davis.

             
“Lizard…what’s wrong?”  I hear the face I love say.   I can’t respond verbally.  I can only shake my head and pant and gulp for air.  All I can see is Davis, moving in and out of my sight.  I can hear him talking, I just can’t catch everything he is saying.   Then Davis yells for someone to find my purse.  A sea of faces suddenly surround him.  Some look familiar, like Henry. A voice asks him what’s wrong. “She’ll be fine.  She just needs her medicine.”  Is he talking about my Xanax?  How does he know it’s in my purse?  He’s right.  I need it.  I begin reaching around blindly to help him find my purse.  Then I notice that he already has it and is pulling a pill bottle out.  I watch, mute, as Davis takes out a pill and asks me, “Is one enough, Lizard?”  Somehow, I manage to understand and shake my head yes.  He brings it to my lips and I open for Davis to place it on my tongue.  Dr. Matt’s words come to mind, “If you are in the middle of a bad attack, chew the Xanax, it will work faster.”  So I do, I chew it.

             
I can’t tell you how long it takes, but soon, more quickly than I believe possible, I have regained perception of my environment.  I’m sitting on the floor of the KTTA newsroom, leaning against a desk.  My legs are now straight out in front of me.  There is pressure against my right shoulder and as I look down at my hand, I see a thumb rubbing against my thumb.  I follow the thumb upward to the arm it’s attached to, and then the person.  Again, Davis.  Sitting right next to me, mimicking my position leaning against the desk, holding my hand, waiting for me to calm and return.

             
“Hey,” is all I say.

             
Davis says it back, “Hey.”  And we sit there a little bit longer.  The newsroom has returned to its previous busy state, with the exception of the occasional person stopping to ask Davis how I am. 

“So, that was
a panic attack?” Davis asks, quietly and soothingly. 

             
“Yeah, that was a bad one.”  I finally squeak out a full sentence.

             
“What happened?  One minute you were talking to me, and the next you were gone.  Thank God you called down for me in advance and that someone grabbed your phone.”  Davis’ expression is more concerned than I have ever seen before and his voice is low, like he is trying not to frighten a scared animal.

             
“Umm…let’s go back to the office to talk.”  I am mortified.  Here I am, new to this job and I experience a huge panic attack, one of the worst I’ve ever had – at work.  People are surreptitiously looking at me as Davis helps me up and hands me my purse, and we make our way back to my office.  I am going to have to ask Gail for help to spin this episode in a more positive direction.

             
When we reach the Happening offices, I pull Davis toward the cubby I share with Henry.  Gail spots us and changes her current trajectory to intercept us.

             
“Biz?  Are you okay?  I just heard.  You collapsed in the newsroom?  What happened?”  Gail looks at me intently, but then shoots a questioning glance at Davis.

             
Time to explain. 

             
I introduce Davis and then motion them to follow me back to the cubby.  Turning away from them, I slowly put my purse down on my desk, squeeze my hands together for a moment, let out a huge sigh and then turn quickly and… spill the whole story.  I have a hard time looking either of them in the eye for very long.  “That news story… about the Ireland brothers… that just broke on the noon news.  I… I know him… them… both of them.”  I lay it all out.  How I “dated” Neil in college and he used me and left me.  That part is not so hard.  Davis has heard it before.  Then I move on to Randall, explaining how Neil moved me in with Randall and then ditched me.  How creepy Randall was.  And then, the big reveal…how before I moved out, ran away, really, from Randall, I think something happened.  Something bad.  I tell them how I woke up naked and alone in my rented room at Randall’s.  I suddenly recall, standing there telling them, that there was a video camera on a tripod in the room.  How had I forgotten that detail all this time?  Davis and Gail don’t say a word.  They just both come toward me and each one of them takes one of my hands.  I’m surprised I’m not crying or panicking.  Perhaps it’s just the Xanax working.  I continue and as I do, something Suzette said to me while she was tormenting me last winter surfaces in my memory.