RETRACE (14 page)

“God, Reeves… God!” And I sink deeper and more powerfully till she starts spasming around me. I’m so close. She cries a strained moan enlaced with my name and I let go.

“Can you stop being such a chick and just shove that spoon in?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you thought I was a chick ten minutes ago when you were screaming my name.” Nia just rolls her eyes, her lips in a side smile. “I try not to eat junk.”

“Ice cream is not junk. Don’t you dare call it that,” She mutters with a feigned scowl and brings her spoon to my mouth. “Open up now, you know you want to…” She wriggles her brows. I chuckle and obey.

Nia covers her bent legs with the large sweatshirt she put on after we got our heart rates back to normal. She rests her hand on her knees and sends the other to the family size ice cream container on the sofa between us. I slouch back and dig another spoon in. Nia gazes at me for a long moment, holding the spoon’s tip next to her lips, thinking.

“Um…” She draws my attention. “What do the roman numbers stand for?” I open my arm sideways, looking at the ink on the inner side of my bicep. “And the initials?” She loads a small mound to her spoon.

“It’s a date,” I say, her eyes focus on mine, waiting for me to go on. “It’s the date we lost Ben. And the initials B.E. are for Ben Evans.” I sigh deeply. Nia worries her lip while I bring another spoonful to my mouth. “Since we were about fifteen, we thought about getting matching tattoos, Ben and me, lame huh?” I snort, and Nia lightly laughs in assent. “We were looking for either the coolest thing or the most ridiculous one.” I chuckle, thinking about the idiotic ideas we had throughout the years to mark our bodies with. “But we never found anything that we both agreed on. Not something monumental, nor something really dumb.” Nia lips stretch wider.

“It sounds like you were really close.”

“We were, he was my family.” There’s a twinge in my heart, but it’s not the usual one. Somehow talking to Nia about Ben is not as depressing as it always is. Surprisingly so, it has an undercurrent of a fond memory of my best friend rather than grief.

“You should have a happy date. We both should,” she says, the last part comes out softer. My eyes come empty in the search for hers. She seems lost inside her mind, once again.

“You want to talk about it?” I ask quietly. She turns to look at me somewhat startled. It takes a short beat before my question sinks in. She shakes her head from side to side and I just send my hand to cover hers, blinking in understanding.

“We need a happy date. A date that won't erase the past, but let us remember it with acceptance.” She goes back to her previous point. “A date that will make my happy beat my sad.”

I don’t let her sink back into whatever she had in her past that upsets her, desperately needing her smiling again I say, “Maybe the date your sexual fantasy was finally fulfilled?”

She grins at me widely. “That could be it.”

“I hope that by having a date you don’t mean you want to get a tattoo.”

“Why not?” Her brows lift in question.

“If I were your boyfriend, I’d never let you defile your perfect skin by marking it.” Her response comes as an involuntary grimace. I’m not sure I’m able to read what she thinks, it appears to be as though she’s making an immense effort to look casual. I let it go and pat her thigh.

“Okay, it was more than a pleasure but I have to…” My phone stops me from saying goodbye and heading to pack before my flight. I check the screen and read the text from The Russian, excusing himself for postponing the trip at the last minute. I can’t calm the beam illuminating my face. After a short texts exchange in which he tells me a family matter came up and that he’d probably need me only next week, I tuck the phone in my pocket. I level my eyes with Nia who’s watching me with a hint of a smile.

“What are you grinning about?” Her own smile broadens.

“I just got some good news.”

“What good news?”

I set the melting ice cream can to the table and inch closer to her. I pull her bent legs and spread them at my sides. She squeaks and her eyes take a devilish glee. I hold her thighs and hover above her.

“I have more time to play soldier with you.”

I make my way to Jake’s thinking, it’s been one of the best weeks I’ve had in a long while. There’s nothing special I could put my finger on that made this week as great. It just was. Between my training routine, doing some “office work,” as far as reading reports on people can be called office work, working some shifts at the bar and hanging out with Nia. Somehow we’ve found ourselves, unplanned, evening after evening, having sex, talking, watching late night shows, and sleeping in my bed. Seems like these evenings we’re spending together just make everything… better. Hunter hasn’t contacted me for a while, but I’m sure he’ll let me know if there’s any developments.

Dan tips his chin in greeting, and Eileen blows me a kiss when I pass by the bar on my way to see Jake. The moment my foot steps into the office, I regret coming in. Jake is on the phone, more precisely barking into the phone. He paces the room and curses under his breath while listening to the person on the other end of the line. Instantly, I manage to scrape up who he might be speaking to… his ex-wife.

Jake married his high school sweetheart at a relatively young age, they were both very much in love and even much more reckless. At eighteen and a few days, Carmie and Jake became parents. Dylan, named after the singer and the legend, of course, was raised in an unusual environment, to say the least. By the age of three and a half, he was able to name every motorcycle on sight and sing heavy metal ballads like any other kid his age would croon Old Macdonald. Still very much in love, but with careers and goals that collided with being parents or even living together, they got a divorce not long after Dylan’s fifth birthday.

As a product of their crazyass loins, just like his parents, Dylan had also developed one hell of a personality. One hell of a personality that came to bite both Carmie and Jake in the ass when at 16 he filed for emancipation. Which he claimed was not for any lack of love for his parents, but only for the sole reason that he believed he could do a better job of taking care of himself than either of them, together or alone, could ever do.

Even now when Jake runs his fingers through his hair and yells, “You cannot fucking do that to me again, Carm.” I know he still cares for her. I think she was, and still is, his one and only. Albeit, this one and only drives him crazy like no one else can. I turn on my heels after grabbing an apron from a freshly ironed stack.
I might as well make myself useful
…

Jake says to the phone, “Hold on Carm, it’s Reeves.” He listens to something she says, and rolls his eyes with a hint of a smile.

Jake swipes a finger over the phone’s screen and a husky, sexy feminine voice bursts into the room, “Hey Mitchell, miss me?”

I chuckle and say, directed at the phone that’s now resting on the table, “More than I can bear, Mrs. Rey.” I intentionally call her by her married name. Jake flips me off while Carmie’s laugh fills the room.

“Not for much longer, I’m coming over soon to strangle your friend.” She laughs again. “You know what, come for dinner tomorrow.” I give Jake a questioning look, he nods with a shrug that says just how much he can’t control the Carmie situation.

“I’ll be there. Can I bring someone, though?” I ask with Nia on my mind. Jake’s eyebrow rises together with a jerk his lips take. I’m not sure what that expression insinuates and I’m not willing to even give it a chance to be elaborated.

“Oh, please do. Is she a hottie?” Carmie asks with a hint of amusement.

“She’s just a good friend…”

“Mmm, Hmm.” They hum in stereo.

I give myself one last check in the mirror, waiting for Reeves to pick me up. He asked me if I wanted to join him for dinner at Jake’s house last night, just before I fell asleep, once again, in his bed. I agreed immediately, just as I’ve agreed to almost everything he’d suggested this past week. The thought of him leaving tomorrow morning is not something I’m thrilled of entertaining. I like having him around. He tends to make me smile, a lot. He tends to keep everything that’s bad at bay.

I smooth the slim, cornflower-blue cotton dress I have on and apply mascara. I slide my feet into beige, suede, ballet-flats, and hastily wrap a taupe pashmina around my shoulders as I hear the knock on the door.

Reeves, wearing a pinstriped, black button-down and fitted jeans, smiles broadly as he sees me.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” I answer the silent compliment. His lips twitch together with the move of his hand to the small of my back, to guide us to the elevator.

“You look great,” he says next to my ear, and my smile almost splits my face in half.

“You are not moving in,” Jake mutters, cutting a chunk of steak that he brings next to his mouth.

“I’m not asking you, love. I’m telling you.” Carmie smiles over-sweetly, seeming unfazed by his harsh-rejection.

I covertly watch her, pretending to be engaged with the contents of my plate.

Her straight, blond hair is almost waist length. She is slim and tall, mere inches shy of Jake and Reeves. She’s sporting rock chick attire: black skinny jeans, a loose Rolling Stones tank top, and dark, but subtle makeup around her powder-blue eyes. She seems like the kind of woman you’d never want to cross.

“Carm, the only way for you to move back in is for an indefinite time. You want to come back, then stay, God damn it.” Jake gives her a look that makes me want to hide under the table and wait for the storm in his eyes to pass.

“A. I’m staying. B. I’ll be sleeping in your bed.” She pops a cherry tomato in her mouth and winks at Reeves who fondly snorts.

“Would you pass on the greatest sex ever if he slept in the next room? No, right? You’d just make yourself comfortable in his bed. No?”

I blush. Reeves smirks and Jake shakes his head as if saying “unbelievable.”

When Reeves makes a move to get up and asks, “More beer?” Carmie jumps from her seat, orders him to stay put, and heads to the kitchen. Coming back, she gives each one of us a cold bottle and to my discomfort, straddles Jake’s thighs.

“I’m staying over, and we’ll just deal with shit,” she says, her lips close to his. Her voice is soft but still loud enough for us to clearly hear her.

“No.” He brushes his mouth to hers. His hand moves to grip her thigh. She threads her fingers through his straight, messy hair and licks his lips. Their mouths meld in one hell of a sizzling kiss, making me dart my eyes to Reeves who seems to be less than bothered by the erotic exhibition we’re subjected to.

“I’m used to it.” He gifts me with a side smile.

When the door opens and a young fusion of Jake and Carmie enters, we all turn our heads his way. “Fuck, really? Can’t you guys ever be normal?” Says the new addition to our group.

“My handsome baby.” Carmie leaves Jake’s thighs and takes a few steps to almost squeeze to death the epitome of cool grunge.

“You’ll scar him more than we both already did with this fondling…” Jake’s husky voice follows Carmie kissing her spawn on the lips. “Hey kid.” Jake tilts a bottle in greeting at his son.

“God, Carmie,” the son says to his mother.

“Oh, shush!” She responds and takes a step back to admire the mildly annoyed twenty something. “What an incredible production you are, eh? Each time I see you, you get more and more handsome.” The production in subject grimaces and grabs the untouched beer bottle Carmie left by Jake’s side when she attacked him moments before.

Jake and his son dap greet.

“What’s up, Dylan?” Reeves asks.

Dylan nods in response, his lips slightly pull up as he notices me.

“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” Dark brown eyes blatantly run over me. An eyebrow raises, his head slowly bobbing while the smile on his lips expands.

“My friend Nia,” Reeves says in a firm tone and moves his hand to cradle the back of my chair.

“Nia.” Dylan takes my hand and plants a lengthy kiss on it.

“Nice to, ahem, meet you,” I say, pulling back my trapped limb.

“It is nice. Very nice,” Dylan replies. He takes a swig of his bottle.

“I wouldn’t even try if I were you,” Jake says with a hint of humor. He gets all of our attention as Dylan, Reeves, Carmie, and I turn his way. “She’s
with
him.” Jake nods at Reeves and turns to wink at me.

“He just declared her a friend. In bro code that means she’s free for anyone else to take a shot at…”

Good Lord
.

“Believe me, son. Don’t.”

My eyes squint, looking for Reeves’ reaction. At that very moment he turns to look at me and something happens, I’m not sure what, but it’s like a charged frisson, some unexplainable vibe that loops between us.

“Oh, c’mon. They are so together. Can’t you see sex written all over the halo they share?” Carmie says, waving her blond clusters back.

I want to die.

“We’re right here,” I murmur. Reeves sends me a small smile which, yet again, I can’t even begin to translate. Dylan tucks his hand into the front pocket of his ripped jeans, studying us with his bottle frozen next to his lips in mid-air.

“Now seriously, you guys totally have this “we’re so deep in each other's souls” thing,” Carmie adds and turns to Jake. “Just like we do, huh, my handsome baby daddy.”

“We do, the problem is, only one of us is clever enough to want to make something of it.”

Carmie and Jake’s instant stare-off is a sixth presence in the room.

“Damn, you’re right, Carmie,” Dylan says, breaking whatever his parents just put on the table. “When you’re done with him,” he adds, winking at me. My face lightly warms and my eyes move to the set of white tee and plaid shirt he has on. I can’t look him in the eyes right now. Frankly, I wish I could disappear for a few moments till the odd ambiance takes a hike.

“Dylan.” Reeves’ warning comes low and firm. He leans over so his lips reach my ear and whispers, “Don’t look at them straight in the eyes, they’re all crazy. They’ll turn you into one of them.”