4. Unknown Number
Unknown Number
Amity
I turn my phone back on when I walk into my apartment. Luckily I saw a note on my door that Lana had stopped by last night to grab Hamlet. I will have to get her nightly scoop later, but right now I need a shower and food before I can deal with a text message from Blake. I take a quick shower, though, scrubbing my skin red and raw. I’m not quite sure how I feel about last night or this morning.
Was it fun? Yes.
Was it sexy and erotic? Of course.
Was it Blake? No.
Before I met him that scenario would be a weekly thing for me. Even after we started being with each other, that was at least one to two times a month. Then halfway through our Costa Rica trip, we became exclusive. Just him and me. Two people who never thought love was in the cards for them because of their nature and personalities found love under the endless starry sky beyond the rainforest. Not even sure words were spoken, but he took my heart. I want my fucking heart back.
I slowly dry off to get dressed. Then I take my time walking to the kitchen and grabbing a parfait from the fridge, before sitting at the table with my phone in my hand. Tapping the screen, I see four missed calls from Willa, one from Tilly, and a million messages from both of them. Still ignoring Blake’s text message, I call Willa.
“Oh my Hades, please tell me you are alive, and this is not someone pretending to be you?”
“Jesus, pineapples, Wil, it’s me. Alive and well. What the hell is going on?”
“Hmph. Maybe you should check your text messages and call your best friends back.”
“That is what I am doing now.”
“Whatever. Any who… Did you hear from Blake by any chance?”
“He messaged me, but I have yet to check it.
“Ummmm okay. Don’t panic, but Clint’s drunk ass sent a picture to him last night with your dance floor threesome.” She spits this out so fast I barely catch all the words.
In my mind, I am thinking I am going to kick Clint’s ass, but the bad bitch in me says, “who cares. Remember, Blake didn’t just leave, he disappeared. I could care less what he saw.”
“Well, he called Nash this morning, losing his shit about the picture. Giving him Hades about how he and Clint were supposed to be watching over you, keeping you out of trouble. That it’s all Nash’s fault he lost you, and he is depressed in Brazil.” I soak in what Willa is saying. Depressed in Brazil? Why would he blame Nash?
She continues, “I’m trying to get it out of Nash what happened, but he is being an ass hat because he knows I’ll run to you with the information. I’ll keep wearing him down, but check your message from Blake and check in with me later, okay? I have to head to the ranch for lessons this morning.
“Alright. Thanks, Be safe.” First, I go change Blake’s name in my contacts, then I look at his text, wondering how I should respond.
Tool: What the duck! Is this how you show your love for someone? As soon as they leave, you hook up with other people?
Me: Sorry, I don’t know a duck.
Clearly knowing he meant the other word.
Me: Nice to hear from you! If it wasn’t for Nash, I might’ve thought your plane crashed in the Gulf.
Tool: Don’t start with me, woman! I’m at a client lunch or I would call and cuss you out right now.
Me: You could try, but I wouldn’t answer. Have a nice life, Blake.
Tool: Dammit! You are mine, Amity. You are to be with no one else until I get back. MINE!
Me: Please ship my heart back via next day air. It called and said it’s ready to move on.
Tool: Don’t poke the bear, Princess! It won’t end well.
Me: I can poke the bear all I want. He’s not here to stop me. As far as I’m concerned, he left and disappeared for three weeks. So the bear can go fuck himself and call somebody who cares.
The phone starts to ring. Ignore. Then I block his number.
Five minutes go by and a text from Willa comes in.
Willa: Did you block Blake?
Me: Yep!
Willa: Zeus’ balls, Amity!
Me: Let me screenshot this conversation for you.
Me: Pic sent
Willa: …
Willa: That son of a bitch! What is his endgame?
Me: Not sure I care anymore.
Willa: Please hold, Nash is calling me.
I go about finishing my parfait, clean up the kitchen and start laundry, waiting for Willa to get back to me. An hour later, my phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: You can’t ignore me, Princess?
Me: Who the fuck is this?
Unknown: You know damn well who this is!
Me: Who’s phone are you texting me from?
Unknown: Don’t worry about it, just know you poked the bear.
Me: OK. Blocking this number too. Bye!
Buzz…oh good…This is actually Willa.
Willa: Sorry…Some of the cows got out. We had to wrangle them up. Nash was losing his shit because you blocked Blake.
Me: God for bid! Tell Nash to get his panties out of a wad.
Willa: Amity!
Me: You know it’s true. Besides, the asshole just texted me from another number.
Willa: Maybe you should just hear him out.
Me: No, I think I’m good.
Me: Look, I need to go pick up Hamlet from Lana and get stuff done around the house before I’m at the ranch all day tomorrow.
Willa: OK, well keep me posted.
My phone buzzes again with another number.
That shithead! I open the message.
Unknown: I have my reasons.
Me: OK.
Changing name in phone
Asshat: You’re going to listen to them.
Me: No, I don’t think I will.
Asshat: Are we having our first real fight?
Me: If that makes you feel better about the situation, sure.
Me: Don’t you have clients to wine and dine?
Asshat: Yes. I’m multitasking.
Me: Who’s phone this time?
Asshat: My assistant.
Me: Oh, is she cute?
Asshat: Yes. Ross is super cute.
Pic downloading
I am greeted with the polar opposite of Blake. Short, balding, slightly overweight, some weird long goatee thing happening.
Me: Wow! You must be experimenting.
Asshat: Fuck you, Amity!
Me: You only wish you could.
Asshat: That’s true.
Me: I really need to go do stuff. Do I need to block this number too?
Asshat: No, but can you unblock mine?
Me: No.
Me: Maybe I’ll see you when you get back in five months.
Asshat: You counting down the days?
Me: No. I ripped up our calendar and let Hamlet pee on it.
I didn’t actually, but he doesn’t need to know otherwise.
Asshat: WTF!
ME: Bye, Asshat.
Phone off.
Pushing down my thoughts of what just played out, I leave to head to Lana and Tilly’s to pick up Hamlet. Walking into their place, I throw myself on their couch. They are both at the kitchen table eating sandwiches with Hamlet begging for a bite.
“Boy trouble?” Tilly asks.
“You could say that. But I know you both know the story already. So let’s not rehash it.”
* * *
Blake
Back in my suite, I have already thrown the whole bar to the floor. Except the one glass I saved to still be able to drink. I need a fucking drink, but nothing is strong enough to push the sick feeling of letting her down. The knot-churning ache that I pissed my girl off. That there is no forgiveness on the table. The feeling I have been fighting since I stepped on that plane and left without a word. Amity sees me now like everyone else always has. Spoiled rich playboy. I have no real reason to act the way I do. I just really enjoy people and sex. All forms. Never been in a relationship to know my emotional capacity. Never cared to learn about someone enough to care about their feelings. Never had to answer to anyone other than myself and family at times. Never thought I could become infatuated with one person. Never, until Amity.
A few days after the announcement I was headed to South America to oversee phase two of a project, I went to Nash and Clint. Told them I wanted to propose to Amity before I took off. Giving her a promise that I was fully committed to her, to us.
Brother Nash and Clint were elated for me. Businessmen Clint and Nash reminded me of the protocols. Our investigator must dig up all the dirt before entering that kind of commitment. I’m a Holdings. Worth millions of dollars with a large company at stake. My parents and family love Amity with all her brashness and beauty. Regardless, we have to secure our assets and name. To gain the knowledge of secrets before some sleazy reporter does. Nash did the same thing with Willa. Though she is an open book with a spotless record. Amity on the other hand, has not always been forthcoming with information. She prefers to focus on the now, over dwelling on the past.
Only from Nash and Willa do I know Amity’s dad was a washed-up rodeo circuit alcoholic. Not a nice one either by the stories Nash shared with me in confidence, because Willa would sever his balls if she knew he overshared. Amity’s mom eventually removed them from the situation and remarried another cowboy. That’s what brought them to San Antonio. She calls him dad and seems like a good guy. Though not always offered a fair hand in life. The ranch has struggled on and off for years, almost keeping Amity from finishing college. They seem afloat now, but a secret grant might have been given to certain ranches that met certain criteria. Only Willa and Amity’s ranches qualified. A secret Nash and I will take to our graves.
Flashbacks of the time we have spent together since day two cause the hair on my arms to rise. From all the times I could tell she was pushing me away when I got too close. Not because she didn’t want me, but because something internally was holding her back. All the times I would awaken to her having nightmares, tossing and turning, murmuring and screaming names, and to get away from her. The scars she has on her hips that she passes off as stretch marks. I have been with enough women in my life to know what actual stretch marks look like, and these are clearly faded scars. The first time I noticed them was when I was determined to learn every inch of her body with my mouth. I remember her whole body tensing when my lips met her skin over the scars. I had looked up at her, but her face stayed stone as she stared at the ceiling. It was not the time or place to ask questions, nor were we that close then for me to be invasive. She has loosened up over time about them, but I still feel a slight tense when my fingers or lips glide over the markings.
Amity has sent me into rants when she would spew words about not fearing me or she has already been through hell and back, with no explanation whatsoever. Without Nash sharing the information he knew; I would be completely in the dark about her past. It took months for Amity to accept me for more than a roll in the sheets. She proved to me I had met my match, and I have wanted no one else since. Her heart is like mine, and I plan to keep her.
Needless to say, when I was handed the file on Amity Jean Mercer the day before I was leaving, shock was an understatement. Nash did not hold any of the information in the file against Amity but was hell bent on getting answers before I went over there that night to ask the only question I wanted an answer to. She had a past, an interesting one. I have re-read those pages, each time thinking I was reading some outdated medieval story. The last thing I wanted to do was dredge up the past with her right before leaving. I had no wiggle room with my schedule to even try to delay for a day or two. Fuck! I tell myself daily I’m a fucking moron for leaving or not reaching out to her. Now she has moved on.
All I have done is jerk off in my hand to memories of her for the past three weeks. While she is out having a threesome and probably more. My brothers told me it was the first time she had been out in weeks, to not suspect any other foul play had happened. How can I not? I broke her. She legit asked for her heart back. Picking up my phone, I call Nash. I need to get home, even for just a couple of days.
“Hey, brother. She un-block you yet?” he asks, but I’m barely able to hear him because his background is loud.
“No, asshole. Where the hell are you?” He flips to facetime. Seven o’clock on Friday, and they are at the karaoke bar.
“Stay on, your girl is about to perform.” Grinning from ear to ear, I ache to catch a glance of her and listen to her sing. I miss hearing her voice carry through the apartment. She reminds me of an old soul with a raspy voice like Patsy Cline. Typically, that is who she is singing or Reba. I watch her take the stage, laughing with her head tilted back a little. I miss her beautiful laugh, how the dimple in her right cheek presses in. How her luscious top lip curls up when she brings her mouth into a genuine smile. My eyes swipe her head to toe through the screen. She looks so edible, and I become more angry I am not there with her. That she is looking like a temptation in cowboy boots and a short fitted dress, outlining her breasts in perfect form down to her divine sultry curves. I hear all our friends shouting her name and cheering her on when the music starts up.
“Crazy. I’m crazy for feeling so lonely. I’m crazy. I’m crazy for feelin’ so blue. I knew, you’d love me as long as you wanted. And then someday, you’d leave me for somebody new.”
I watch her close her eyes while she sways to the music, knowing she is feeling every beat and word in her bones. Her voice carrying on like an alluring siren. Drawing everyone in to feel her heart. To feel her pain. I’m memorized and near tears knowing it was me that caused her suffering. Near the end of the song, she looks back toward her crew and realizes I'm on the other side of the screen. Locking eyes with me, singing the last verse directly toward me. “Crazy for thinking my love could hold you. I’m crazy for tryin’. And crazy for cryin’. And I’m crazy for lov’n you.” The crowd erupts for her as they always do. I decide to end the call, booking the next flight home.