The Fight Within (58 page)

“Ohhhh my….” She sighed with pleasure, a big smile on her face. “It was all of my complaining this week, wasn’t it?” she teased. “I outta complain about a horrible work week more often then.” She grinned.

“Nah, but I knew with my crazy schedule, and everything that’s been going on, we kinda needed this time together. Plus, haven’t seen you in a few days.” He looked at her longingly as he continued to stroke her leg. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She blew him a kiss.

Just then, another couple walked in and sat across from them. Sean hooked his gaze on the attractive woman, who donned shoulder length brunette hair, a smattering of freckles, and dark brown eyes. He noticed the guy with her looked a bit awkward, but also clearly smitten with her. He fumbled about, trying to get comfy next to the siren.

“Looks like a first date,” Treasure interjected.

Sean nodded in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing. Remember our first date?” He reached for her other leg and began his magic on it, as well.

“Yes!” She cackled. “It was ridiculous.”

“No it wasn’t!” He smirked and winked. “Anyway, it’s hard to meet people in New York. My hat’s off to anyone that can fucking find love here.”

“You sound so jaded!” she chastised, though she said the words with a smile.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but it’s true. I don’t mean that fake shit. I mean
real
love…like the kind we have.” He leaned close to his beauty and landed a kiss across her soft lips, relishing the moment, especially when she kissed him back, over and over again.

“Well you’re just a regular ol’ sweetheart today,” she taunted, eliciting a laugh from him.

They both slumped back into lazy comfort. Just then, a waitress came over and took their drink orders.

“I’d like a Manhattan, please,” she said with flair, as if she were with a really cool cat and needed to impress. He smiled at the notion.

“And I’d like a gin and tonic.”

The waitress nodded and left them alone once again. He took the opportunity to let his fingers wander up her thigh to the exposed flesh under her skirt.

“Alright now!” she warned with a kinked grin. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it
feel
like I’m doing?” He continued his digital trek until he felt the soft, silky material of her panties.

“Stop it!” She giggled and smacked his hand while pointing at the couple across from them. Sulking, he slid his fingers away and sighed, leaned back, basking in the moment.

“How do you think they met?” she asked, snuggling up close to him.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe a mutual friend introduced ’em.”

“Or, maybe it was a blind date…or online dating.”

“Yeah, a lot of online dating nowadays. You ever do that?” He shot her a look out the corner of his eye. With a bashful expression, the woman turned away, as if he’d asked her if he could bury his head between her thighs.

“Well, I tried…can’t say I was successful.”

“I used to do it all the time.”

“Really?! You don’t strike me as an online dater, Sean.”

“Why’s that?” he asked in surprise.

“Well, because you seem like the more hands on type.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I was sick of dating for so long, I pretty much just ignored it for a while. One night though, right before I met you actually, there was this pretty cool girl who’d logged on and sent me an IM.”

“Oh, really?”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect Treasure of harboring a kernel of jealousy. He liked that shit…how damn cute.

“Yeah.”

I’ll just toy with her a bit.

He smirked on the inside.

“What did she look like?”

She would have to go there and ruin this for me… She’ll feel satisfied now since I’ve never seen the chick.

“Hell if I know. She didn’t have any photos or anything. We were just friendly, no sex talk or anything like that, well, at least not toward each other.”

And there it was—a big grin cracked the woman’s face, crushing his delight.

“We used to talk about all of her bad dates. At first, the crap was kinda funny, and then it wasn’t so funny anymore. I could tell she really wanted something different, but she kept running into fucked up guys or just men she wasn’t compatible with. I didn’t even want to talk to her at first.”

“So why did you?”

He looked over at her, meeting eyes, locking them in place.

I’d ruin this date if I took you to my apartment right this second and made love to you, right?

…He kept his wayward thoughts to himself.

“Because Kyle basically told me I’d become selfish in my old age. I promised him that the next time someone needed me, even if it was a total stranger, I’d step up to the plate, ya know?” He looked out at the sea of people moseying about, lovers huddled together, kissing, talking and smiling… “So I did. It just so happened that in that same time frame she popped up online. At first I was gonna ignore ’er, I was tired. But then, I remembered what Kyle said and thought, ‘What the hell?’ Turned out to be a really good decision.”

“Hmmm, do you still talk to her?”

“Not as much as I used to. She’s met someone and obviously so did I. It was nice though, you know?” He threw her a brief glance. “Funny, if it wasn’t for Kyle and her, I may not have asked ya out.”

“Really? So I guess I owe her and Kyle a big thank you!” She chuckled.

“Yeah, she would say things that made me realize I was only hurting myself by being so shut down regarding women and dating. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew my current love life at that time was not all right to me. I think I wanted companionship, but was so scared of getting messed over again, I just kept shit casual.” He coughed in his hand and didn’t dare look at her. He hated admitting he was afraid of
any
damn thing, let alone something like that. But it was true—he had been terrified to put his heart out there again, for once you exposed the thing, a crowd could come trample it, only it would be no crowd at all. It would be one woman in a pair of killer stilettos, but the pain would feel like a herd of angry elephants having their way with him, tormenting him under their viscous weight and leaving him with a crushed heart, beyond repair.

“Speaking of Kyle, his schedule has been so crazy lately too, but he wants to meet you. How about in a few days?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Just let me know as soon as possible.”

“I can tell ya now, actually. He’s supposed to stop by on Thursday night. Come over to my place and I’ll have him there.”

“I’ll come after work. Is that fine?” She leaned in closer to him and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

Just then, their drinks arrived. Sean sat up and plucked both beverages off the tray, handed Treasure hers, and took his own.

“Thanks.” He motioned toward the lady, took a sip, then lounged back in the cabana. “This is good.” He took another noisy slurp of his drink.

“Mine is, too.”

“Come closer.” He set his drink down and motioned for her to draw nearer. They crossed their legs over one another, intertwining them just so.

“Let’s take a selfie.” Her face split in a grin.

“Alright.” He leaned in closer, hugging onto the lady as she angled her phone. This was the perfect way to end a stressful week—with the perfect date in the company of a perfect mate. And though he was flawed, his soul tarnished from past devastations, with Treasure, he felt like he was made out of pure gold…

*

The apartment smelled
like a damn swimming pool.

“I think I used too much bleach,” Sean mumbled to himself as he set the half empty bottle of Clorox beside the now iridescent toilet. It sparkled brighter than a cluster of newly formed stars. Truth was, he was attempting to step up his damn game, reach an altitude he’d never imagined. Now that he’d finished classes, he was concentrating more on his next fight and looking for other employment. During this process, he’d begun to notice things he’d not blinked much of an eye at previously. For one, his place was messy as hell. It had never really dawned on him beforehand, as if a veil had been set over his eyes, masking his own shit from him. Sure, ex-girlfriends had complained in the past, but he figured that was just something women would say. Besides, Mom had always cleaned up after him and Colin, and though he wasn’t the epitome of cleanliness, he never figured himself for a slob.

I ain’t a slob, but I’m one tossed sock away from being one…

He wasn’t even sure how it had all come to be. Things had gotten completely out of hand. He figured all the working, school hours and such had led him to a life of simply working and falling asleep, with little time for anything else. But one evening, he looked around in complete disgust, astonished that Treasure had never called him on the shit, but when she’d come over, he could see on her damn face that it wasn’t exactly to her standards. Besides, he’d been in her house too many times to count, and she kept the place like a damn showroom. He figured it was due to the nature of her job, but no, it was more than that…

She needed control of her surroundings…

Regardless, she never lit into him, but he did occasionally find the woman picking up things here and there, making tidy piles amongst the muck. A starter’s kit, if you will, but he never picked up on the hint. It seemed his surroundings, for the longest, had mimicked his rotten life. The worse he felt about himself, the worse the apartment looked. In retrospect, he deemed it a result of heavy depression. His amped up sense of humor cloaked the shit to the point where he never looked it square in the eye.

He hated himself, but thought he’d felt the opposite. When the realization hit him, the truth knocked on his door, it came on like a damn gut punch, a self-inflicted superman to the dome.

So…now he knew. He spent two days sprucing up the place, purging himself with it, making it look a bit like something. Matter of fact, the wall by the front door was filled with garbage bags about to burst, ready to be hauled away. He barely recognized his apartment. Half of his wardrobe sat in a cardboard box, ready to be sent to a thrift store, and his refrigerator was practically empty, minus a bottle of wine for his sweetheart, two beers for Kyle, and one for himself.

I gotta go grocery shopping before they get over here tomorrow…

He picked up the broom and finished sweeping the bathroom, then made his way over to a treat, a gift he’d given himself. He’d bought brand spanking new bed sheets…
expensive
ones.

I want her to come over more… This should help.

He felt a little silly at the department store, exploring the silky fabrics with matching comforters. No doubt about it—Treasure had changed him, made him want to
do
better, look the part and dress it, too. So, he bought a navy blue bed set with cobalt designs. The damn thing cost almost $800, but it was well worth it. For once, he had something over a 300 thread count… and he could immediately feel the difference. He’d bought matching items to go with it, and set everything up just so. Dark and light blue artwork, lamps, the works. He didn’t ask for her expertise, her professional help. Treasure surely would have obliged, but no, he wanted to do this all on his own. Now, the bedroom smelled like Febreze and cinnamon candles, the bathroom like fresh laundry, and his kitchen like nothing at all for a change. All the rotten food, rotten thoughts, rotten moods were gone. He’d been rotting on the inside and hadn’t known it, despite the constant stench of his own cynicism. He’d been wrong in describing the shit as wacky humor rolled in layers of honesty when, in fact, it proved nothing more than a thick, ratty cover for pain.

When something smells bad, it’s putrid…it’s decaying…it’s dying.

It was no longer about the trash he hauled day in and day out, but about his entire, miserable existence. His heart had been broken, thus, women were no longer trustworthy. He only used them for sex and saw them all in the same light—different faces, same bullshit. How horrible he’d become! Until Sapphire Storm reminded him that some women
are
good, and they want a good man, too. And it wasn’t like he was perfect. He’d done his fair share of shit, rationalized the inexcusable, all in an effort to survive.

Kyle’s challenge made him stick his head out of his own filth, come up for air and look at himself for what he
truly
was.

A loser.

Not because of his occupation, or all the times he’d tried and failed. No. He was a loser because he refused to look at the slop around him, the shit he’d created. The piles and mountains of protective layers to create a barrier around a heart that was barely beating… He was a loser because he had a chance to win, yet refused to even try due to bitterness and anger. Each lunge into the punching bag, he would wish to be a real, life person. He wanted to take his aggressions out on someone, for he was the owner of a tormented soul. It proved so much easier to pour that pain into a pound of flesh than to look himself in the eye and say, ‘You’re hurting. Fix it.’