ROMANCE: The Bad Boy Meeting (9 page)

Macy had spent so much time contemplating going to the party throughout the second half of her day that she barely got through half of the manuscript that she had been tasked to read. When six o’clock rolled around the corner, she immediately began to pack up, her fingers swiftly clearing everything off of her desk even though she was in no danger of actually being late for anything. On her way out, she barely said goodbye to Jason, hoping that the next day, with this party out of her system, she would have a clearer head to really contemplate this issue with Jason.

Thirty minutes later, she had braved the crowds, elevators, pavements, and subway rides that led her to her tiny apartment in SoHo, one that, over the last year that she had inhabited it, had become one of the only things holding her to her job: it paid for what had been her dream home since she moved to New York as a college student.

After making herself a hasty dinner, she sifted through her closet for whatever she could find that could possibly fit, “Amazon Princess,” and settled for a black and gold crop-top and skirt combination that hugged her curved perfectly. As she ignored the three thousand calls that were some combination of her best friend inviting her somewhere, her mother wanting to check on her and Jason shamelessly asking her out yet again, she dug into the deep depths of her closet for anything she could accent her outfit with. In an old chest, she found arm bracelets, bangles, fashion jewelry… and shimmery bronzing lotion.

She gasped, her heart racing as she placed the box on her bed and began to hastily unpack everything inside of it. She spent the better part of the next hour covering herself in bronzer and assembling her accessories until she was certain she could convince any westerner that she had walked right out of the Amazon.

After one quick look in the mirror, she added the finishing touches: some illuminant above her cheekbones, a smokey eye framed by coal eyeliner, and nude lipstick. She showered her long hair in hair spray and tossing it to give it a sexy, bed head look. With a sigh she realized, it was only then, in staring at her transformed self in the mirror, that she had fully convinced herself to go to this party.

***

Macy didn’t even have to wonder if she had the right address, for as soon as she came within a block of the party, she could hear the sound of it spilling out through the front door. She scurried down the sidewalk, her nervous legs carrying her there much faster than she would have liked. True to their half-hearted request, she had planned on getting there late. In fact, as she depressed the button on the outside of the door, she checked her watch, which told her it was almost midnight.

Someone buzzed her in and she raised an eyebrow, wondering what kind of shape she was going to be in for work the next day. She figured they had the entire building, for as she wandered down the hall taking in the sensation of incense mindfulness practical guide coating inside of her nose and listening to the sounds of chatter and music bleeding out of every room, she realized that the party was everywhere.

Deep down inside of her; in the back of her head, perhaps, or the pit of her belly, she felt something switch on. She grabbed the railing at the foot of the stair case, her heart racing with excitement, a kind of sexual energy coursing through her veins. Something about her smokey eyes, her bronzed skin, that crazy apartment, made her want to do something she had never done before…. Immediately.

“Hey you!” as she was stepping onto the first step of the staircase, she heard a female voice from behind her.

She turned to find a tall, thin brunette woman standing behind her, with a red-lipped smile on her face and a bottle of Guinness in her hand. “Here!” she offered her the beer.

Macy didn’t even think to resist it.

“You must be the girl Vince and James invited.” She commented as Macy took her first gulp of the cold liquid.

“Yeah.” She replied.

“I’m Sophie.” As they got to the top of the stairs, she had to yell to be heard.

Macy nodded. “That’s such a pretty name.”

Sophie stopped at the top of the stairs, her eyes running over her entire body. “Well you’re a gorgeous person.” She replied, her voice every bit as intoxicating as Vince and James’.

“Thank you.” Macy gushed.

Sophie shrugged and turned to open the first door on the right. Inside the incense was much thicker and Macy could detect the unmistakable scent of cannabis mixed in with it. All around her, people were smoking, lounging on top of each other, making out with each other. It was obvious that they all seemed possessed with this same kind of sexual energy Macy was finding it harder and harder to ignore. Sophie wrapped her fingers around her wrist as she led her through the crowd. Bodies brushed up against her as hands caressed her, only making her feel that much more excited. Finally, they reached the edge of the room, where a glass door separated them from the balcony.

Sophie rummaged in the pocket of her dress for a short moment before emerging with a pack of cigarettes. “Want a smoke?” she asked.

Macy hadn’t even smoked a drunken one since college, but she shrugged anyway. “Why not?”

Sophie’s face lit up as she pulled the glass door apart. “Do you believe in dragons?” she asked, her voice much quieter in the outside air.

Macy took a drag of the cigarette and shrugged. “I don’t not believe in them….” She murmured.

Sophie scoffed. “You don’t have to believe. They don’t need your mind.”

“They?”

A mischievous smile spread across Sophie’s face. “Are you aware that you’ve been invited to an orgy?”

The blood rushed to Macy’s face… she had never been so surprised… and excited at the same time. “What does sex have to do with dragons?”

Sophie took one long drag before answering. “It frees the soul. Your energy, locked in that gorgeous sexy body of yours is enough to turn James and Vince for life.” She explained.

Macy raised an eyebrow. “So I get to have sex with both of them?”

Sophie laughed, the wind carrying away the sound. “Of course. That’s all that concerns you.”

Once short moment later, Macy had been led back downstairs to one of the rooms she passed on the way up. When Vince pushed the door open, she could see that the area behind him was completely devoid of people. “Let’s go,” James urged her from behind, as he took her hand and gently guided it to his bulge.

Macy’s eyes went wide. She had never felt anyone that big before.

The sensation of Vince grabbing her free hand shook her out of the momentary gaze that had gripped her. She looked up at him, her eyes drinking in his washboard chest glimmering in the hazy candlelight. As she stroked James’ penis, his member throbbing in her hand, Vince grabbed her face and kissed her the sensation of his lips on her sending a chill down her spine. She could not believe where she was and what she was doing.

Vince pealed her crop top off and let it fall to the ground. She held their penis in each of her hands as Vince sucked on her neck and James licked her breasts. Their touch was fiery, almost impossibly electric. Her blood boiled, seeping through her veins as a fast, hot, viscous liquid depositing desire in every muscle that it touched.

James slipped her skirt off, effortlessly finding the zipper and figuring out the buttons. She gasped as Vince pressed his fingers into her the titillating pressure almost too much to bear. Macy could feel both of their cocks getting harder and harder in her hands as Vince gently lowered her until her knees hit the ground. She moaned as James rubbed his warm penis against her cheek, pressing it between her lips. Macy took all of him in, leaving her free hand wrapped around Vince, who stroked her nipples to a taught hardness. She felt Vince tug at her hair, so she shifted, taking him into her mouth. As she did this, James flipped her over so that she was on her hands and knees, and began to lick her in between her legs. She moaned, the tentative sound pressing out of her lips and hanging in the air around her.

Vince grunted, ramming his penis harder and harder into her mouth until Macy’s eyes began to water. He lifted her face away from his manhood, bending down to plant a wet kiss on her even wetter lips. As he jutted his tongue into her mouth, she reached her first orgasm with a surprised scream. Her muscles were still trembling when James stood up and penetrated her, his penis completely filling her up.

He groaned as he slowly drove himself in and out of her, pushing Vince even deeper into her mouth. Her legs had begun to grow numb in ecstasy by the time they switched spots, James rubbing his perfect, throbbing, wet penis all over her face before sticking it in her mouth. As Vince turned up the speed, ramming himself into her faster and faster until she barely knew what was up or down or right or left anymore, she flicked, James’ penis out of her mouth and lifted it, vigorously licking his balls underneath. She screamed, the sound of her own voice mixing with James’ groans and Vince’s grunts a she reached yet another orgasm.

And another.

And another.

Soon she could tell up from down, right from left, Vince from James. It was as if she had completely transcended herself and had taken to the air, riding the magical carpet of their sexual energy. Macy soon felt herself growing extremely hot, her skin glistening with sweat and her hair plastering itself to her face. Her eyes rolled back in her head, but by the time she had come to again the candles had become massive flames licking at the walls and the curtains. The ceiling was covered in a thick bed of smoke, the smell of it filling her head, making her feel even dizzier.

“Wha-“ she gasped, but James stepped away from her, his hot breath wielding smoke as he vigorously stroked his own penis.

One look behind her told her that Vince had done the same. Their glistening skin had begun to morph and change as they became covered in scales. Just as she had pressed her back against the foot of the bed, the door burst open, revealing Sophie on the other side of the threshold. She seemed not at all surprised, but just yelled, “What are you waiting for? There’s a fire! Get out!” she screeched.

Macy did not need to be told twice. She slipped her clothes on and made her way to the door. But as she turned to say goodbye to Vince and James, or to urge them to come with her, or whatever it was… she realized that they were gone. They had disappeared once again.

With one deep, guttural cough, she scurried out of the room, down the hall and outside to meet the firemen, policemen, and neighbors, who desperately wanted to know what the hell had happened in there.

Angelica wiped the beads of sweat sprouting on her forehead. Her clammy hands returned to the hand rests on her chair, and she grasped them as the van lurched from right to left. The highway raced by her window as the van swerved in and out of the cars crawling alongside them.

“Hold on to your seats!” Darren, the cameraman and driver of the van yelled just as he slammed onto the accelerator, narrowly avoiding the Suburban in front of them as he cut off the mustang in the next lane. He ignored the middle finger Suburban Guy flashed.

We’re gonna die.

We are literally going to die.

There is no hope for us.

We’re gone.

Angelica watched Clementine, the newscaster in the passenger seat, yank her phone out of the glove box. “Shit!”

Darren tore his eyes away from the windshield, his eyebrows colliding on his forehead. “What now?” he asked, his voice, made husky from a lifetime of cigar smoking, nearly drowned out by the bed of sirens they had just driven right into.

“Fucking Channel 2 is already there!”

Angelica winced at the sound of her shrill voice. That’s why they should have taken the back roads. She had thought about it as soon as they set out on the highway, wondering why they were going through traffic to report on the very accident that was causing that traffic in the same place.

“Calm down, Tine. We’ll get there.” Darren said, reaching over with one of his muscular hands, encased in aged, leather-like skin.

Clementine shook his it off. “I’m not sure It’ll even matter.” she said.

Angelica’s eyes wandered out of the van. Just through the jammed two lanes of cars, she could see an exit rapidly approaching.

Take the exit.

The words leapt into her mind, but then stayed there, running around in circles and circles as if they couldn’t find a way out.

Just say it!

Her heart thrusted against her rib cage and throbbed in her ears. That cold sweat came back, but she didn’t swipe it away. She didn’t do anything. Her mind had tied itself into its own little knot, the crucial words trapped inside.

“Take the exit!” Clementine yelled. When Darren didn’t immediately respond, she grabbed the wheel.

They swerved into the next lane over, causing the driver of a black Volvo to slam on his breaks and punch the horn.

Darren raced down the exit ramp as fast as he could, giving Angelica whiplash. Three more turns and one more brief stint on the highway and they were there. Clementine was the first out of the car. She scurried around to the driver’s side, her shoulder-length blond hair rustling in the slight wind. “Darren. Let’s go!” she said, yanking his door open.

Angelica stepped out after them, the lowly intern following them around. She advanced at an almost painfully slow pace, her thighs rubbing together and her overgrown, ginger bangs falling into her eyes .

“Excuse me!” her heart skipped a beat as two police officers zoomed right past her, their coffee tainted breath lingering in the air behind them.

She stood in an uninhabited patch of asphalt. From left to right, there were the news vans and the police cars, trying their best, but also failing epically at controlling the flow of traffic. Then, there were the ambulances, the people limping towards help with bloodied faces and pained expressions. Smoke shrouded the crash itself, the truck and the bus nearly impossible to see. The air stank with burning fuel and metal… and people. But, as Angelica’s eyes finally made their way to Clementine she saw that miraculously, she had found to a way to talk over all the noise and hubbub.

“Here you have it, Jim!” she glanced behind her, motioning at the mangled pieces of machinery. Her blue eyes were bright and brilliant, a smile leaking out of them.

Angelica was equal parts amazed and terrified as she watched Clementine slowly inch her way closer and closer to the wreck. Her words leaping out of her mouth a mile a minute. Angelica felt compelled to follow her, even though she could think of nothing helpful to do.

“As you can see, it is a pretty horrific scene here on I-5….”

Angelica was trying to pay attention, to take notes on her technique, but she couldn’t deny the massive distraction happening right over Clementine’s head. The smoke coming from the bus had intensified. Fire fighters yelled urgent messages to each other, gesturing wildly at it. From between Clementine’s legs, Angelica could see that something fowl and extremely dangerous-looking leaked out of the exhaust.  Her stomach flipped at the sight as she realized it was going to explode.

There it was; the important thing that would mean Angelica’s first words since they arrived on the scene.

Move! Get out of the way! It’s going to explode!

It was such an easy thing to say, but sadly, as Angelica stared Clementine, watching her red lips move like the beak of a blue bird, she realized just how difficult this seemingly small thing would be. She would have to leap in front of the camera during a live broadcast and yell those words right at Clementine.

Her eyes frantically shifted from the smoking bus, to Clementine and Darren. It wasn’t until the firefighters fled, their boots slamming against the concrete at full speed, that anyone noticed what was going on.

“Move! Move! Move!” they waved their hands frantically.

“C-C-C-Clementine!” Angelica screeched. Her brain shriveled up at this small effort.

Clementine just kept talking.

Darren glanced back at Angelica, his eyes wide with exasperation as he dropped the camera. “Dammit, Tine! There’s an explosion!” he grabbed her thin arm in his massive hand and dragged her away.

Angelica turned, launching into her own run. Her diaphragm fought for air, thrusting up and out, against her lungs, against her ribcage, but she felt like she was breathing through a straw anyway. She had barely traveled seven steps before the massive blast sounded, obliterating what little sunlight they had. The smell of smoke and ash coated the inside of her throat as she pushed herself off of the ground. Everything was covered in a haze and bodies moved around like floating jelly fish, but even through all of that, she could see Clementine racing through the ash and soot for the camera.

“Did we get it? Did we get the shot?” she demanded to no one in particular. Clementine shoved the headset onto her head, her mouth hanging open in anticipation. “Uh yes Jim! We’re still here!” she tore it off of her, then shoved the camera at Angelica.

Angelica’s eyes went wide. She barely knew how to work one of those. How was she supposed to be able to adjust it? She would just get the wrong shot and ruin the whole broadcast.

“Oh Don’t be a pansy!” she hissed, nudging the camera towards her.

Angelica gulped, taking it anyway, because if she hadn’t, the thing would have dropped right onto the ground. Aside from the fear that threatened to control her, resonating in her knocking knees and trembling fingers, a strange sense of accomplishment inevitably surfaced. This was the most important thing she’d done all day. Yet, just as she went to press her eye against the receiver, Darren found his way back to them.

“I got this, pretty lady,” He said. He lifted the camera right out of her hands.

***

That afternoon, Angelica sat at her desk, staring at the phone, wishing someone would call. But instead of the welcome distraction to extract her from present company, Jim, the producer, stepped out from his massive, window-cased office with a sheet of paper.

Ratings.

Numbers flew out of his lips as more and more people walked up to him so that they could listen closer. Clementine was first to the punch, bobbing up to him in her soot-covered, pink skirt suit. Angelica stood up and made her way to the back of the crowd, being careful not to make too much noise.

“I am proud to say that we were the most watched station this morning. Thanks to Clementine's team catching that explosion the way that they did. Darren! Angelica!”

Then everyone looked at the three of them and Angelica’s heart started racing and her eyes started watering and her face flushed with blood.

Why did I chose this? There is no logical reason for me to be here.

I don’t belong.

Darren slapped her on the back, the sound of excited chatter filling the void after the producer retreated back to his office. Clementine remained standing in the center of the room, her dramatized retelling of the story capturing everyone’s attention.

“Couple of us wanna get drinks tonight,” Darren said, wagging his bushy eyebrows.

Angelica pursed her lips.

Darren’s shoulders fell.

She hoped he knew enough not to go any further with the invitation. Darren was a buddy. A pal. But she would never go as far as to put herself in an intensely social setting just to hang out with him, so she gave her head a quick shake, and turned to begin gathering her things for her departure.

Once she made it home to her very modest, Portland apartment, she put in a microwaveable dinner, stuffed the hot pasta into her mouth, and went on to bed. The next morning, she awoke feeling no better than she had in going to sleep. It was Saturday, and Saturday meant going over to her mother’s place to help with gardening. Angelica didn’t hate gardening, or her mother, but somehow the two together were a little too much to handle. So after devoting less than an hour to the cause, Angelica quit, sitting at the patio table with one of her mother’s homemade fruit salads.

“Phew!” her mother stepped up onto the patio, taking off her gloves and sitting across from Angelica. She took off her sunglasses, revealing two tired grey eyes. “Thank’s for all the help, Gel,” She said, the pop of her tupperwear punctuating that sarcastic remark.

Angelica shrugged. “I didn’t come here for the flowers. I came for the fruit”

Her mother scoffed. “I thought my days of being a personal cook were over,” She said.

Angelica laughed at this, shoving a forkful of strawberry into her mouth. “You chose that life when you had me.”

“Ha!” she gulped down a generous sip of water before saying, “You can’t blame me for your healthy appetite.”

Angelica gulped. There was: another offhanded comment about her dress size. With her mother, they were a dime a dozen, constantly floating around her, thickening the air until it was nearly impossible to breathe. “Only for your food, Mom,” She said, hoping that a little complementing would divert the conversation that was bound to happen anyway.

But she raised an eyebrow, eyeing her bulbous breasts. “Doesn’t look it.”

Angelica dropped her fork accidentally-on purpose. “M-M-Mom.” There it was again: the stutter. A nervous sweat coated her forehead.

“Just join a spinning class or something,” She said, shrugging her shoulders.

You know it’s not that easy… “Y-Y-You kno--”

Her mother reached across the table, patting her shoulder. “Just shake it off, Gel. No nerves here. Just me n’ you.”

“M-Mom.” Angelica pressed her lips together. The harder she tried the more her insides rebelled against the effort.

She shook her head, her lips folding into a frown. “I’m sorry it’s just… can’t a mother talk to her daughter about these things? I should be able… to.” Her voice broke at the end.

Angelica reached for her hand. It was easier than trying to lie to her to calm her down. No. A mother couldn’t fat shame her daughter because seeing her curves made her uncomfortable. But this wasn’t
A Mother
. This was Angelica’s mother, and Angelica’s mother said whatever she wanted, however she wanted.

“One of my girlfriends started taking a spinning class. Said you can go as fast or slow as you want. Can even sit in the back if you get shy…”

“I don’t like spinning or biking.” This time the words came willingly.

Mother stopped chewing, letting the bolus of food hang in her mouth before she gulped it down and said, “Well, if you want to reduce--”

“I-I-I d-don’t want to red-duce.” Angelica said. Her fruit salad started to taste more and more bitter.

“Well, how are you gonna find a husband like that?” Her mother asked, jabbing her wrinkled finger at her.

“I’m not trying to find a husband.” Angelica lied. She had been looking for her prince charming practically since birth.

Her mother sighed, folding her hands in front of her. “This is my worst nightmare.”

Angelica raised an eyebrow. Her worst nightmare was drowning in a car accident. “I’m s-s-sorry.” I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry my choices offend you. I’m sorry my lifestyle does not fit your misogynistic ways.

“Don’t you want a man to come home to? Don’t you want someone to make fruit salads for? Don’t you want a house… and garden… a
baby
?”

Angelica sucked in a deep breath, pursing her lips. “I just want a career.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “What? At that station? You never even get in front of the camera. You can’t even talk to me sometimes, let alone the rest of the world.”

Angelica had nothing to say to this. She kept her head down for the rest of the meal, focusing her attention on the crunch of the pineapple, the sweet juice of the strawberry. She could not deny the fact that her mother was at least a little bit right. Angelica found it difficult holding basic conversations with people. She always had, and yet, somehow, she went from a writer, to a journalist, to a newscaster and suddenly she wanted to be in front of people. She had a vision of herself; a better self. A self who could hop in front of the camera like it was nothing. A self she could love, truly love.