Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I rush into Java Joes and see Kat sitting in the corner with two coffees in front of her.
“You’re late,” she says as she watches me with a guarded expression. “Don’t tell me you were up early this morning having makeup sex.”
“No, I wasn’t. We didn’t have time. He had to catch a plane to Dallas.”
“What am I going to do with you? What in the hell happened? Damon spent over an hour on the phone with Anthony last night. It didn’t sound good.”
“It was awful. I ran from him like a twelve-year-old girl. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to put that scared little girl to bed. Anthony isn’t much better than me; he’s a thirty-four-year-old boy who is used to getting what he wants. His mom spoiled him, and he thinks the world is his oyster.”
“Sounds like he’s perfect for you, then. He doesn’t want the world, Em; he wants you. You’re his oyster, and it’s shucking season, girlfriend.” Her shoulders shake as she laughs.
I laugh at her joke, but sober as I remember what sent me running yesterday. “He threw a glass last night, and I lost my mind. I hid in the corner of the closet and cried. I only left the closet to throw up.”
“Maybe you should go see Dr. Lydell again. She’s helped you through a few rough patches. If the stress is making you physically ill, then you need to see her.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. I’ll call her tomorrow.”
I rush around, trying to get a power cord for my phone and make it back in time to meet Roxy. I see her in my mind as a bleached blonde who looks somewhat like a white Grace Jones—a badass chick in leather and silver studs.
I pull up in front of my house with about fifteen minutes to spare and take a few of them to plug in my phone and check my messages. There are several from Anthony.
I arrived in plenty of time. You are right; it was the most expensive taxi ride ever. It was so worth it. I love you, Emma. I'll call you tonight. See you Wednesday.
A few minutes later.
I didn't hear from you yet, and I'm worried you changed your mind. Are you avoiding me again?
Later still.
Worried, please text or call me.
The last message was about twenty minutes ago.
My phone was dead. I was having coffee with Kat. Things are fine. Stop worrying. Roxy will be here shortly, so call me when you get to Dallas.
I'm relieved. You had my heart palpitating. I will call you as soon as I land. Have a good afternoon, baby. I love you .
The doorbell rings just as I read his last text. I open the door and see a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl staring me down.
"Hi, I'm Roxy. Are you Emma?" She holds out her hand for me to shake. I tilt my head in confusion. She is not the Roxy I was expecting. This girl looks sweet and normal. I figured anyone who hangs out with gay men all day would have to have a bit of an edge.
"Yes, I'm Emma. Come on in. Let me show you the house." I step aside to let her enter. She's about my height with ample breasts, a tiny waist, and narrow hips. She's top-heavy for the rest of her. It looks like she may topple over any minute.
"I was excited to come here today. I live in Burbank right now, and it's just too much of a haul to get to Trax. This would be about a twenty-minute drive, so it's perfect."
"Chris and Trevor told me you work at Trax. How is that?" I raise my eyebrows. It's a strange job for a pretty, straight girl.
"I love it. The men don't bother me, and the women are harmless. It also pisses my parents off, so that helps." Her eyes scan the house as we move farther into the living room.
I take her on tour around the place. It doesn't take us long; it's a two-bedroom bungalow. I show her the room that would be hers, and she gets giddy. I've never seen a girl so excited about an en-suite bathroom. She enters the small walk-in closet and looks around. There are still a few of Kat's items hanging about. While she is looking at the space, I notice a brown box in the corner. I walk around her and pick it up. The top falls open, and several unmentionables fall out.
We stand aside and look at the floor. I burst into laughter as the last vibrator rolls out of the box.
"Well, that settles it. I want this room. If it comes with toys, then I'm in. However, I'll have to pass on that whip-looking thing and the handcuffs. I don't mind a little spanking or some breath play, but I haven't tried the whole BDSM thing yet." She looks at me as if to see my reaction. I'm still stunned by the plethora of sex accouterments lying on the floor.
"Well, these belong to Kat. I'll have to let her know she left them here." I giggle at the thought of that conversation. "You'll have to order your own sex store." I gather up the selections, place them back in the box, and back into the closet.
"Every girl needs a good B O B and a large supply of batteries," she says. I'm glad that she has a good sense of humor. That could have gone so differently.
"I call mine Roger Rabbit," I tell her. The reference is to the vibrator I have, and Kat always told me I looked like Jessica Rabbit. "So, here's the deal. The house is paid for, so my roommate will need to cover the utilities and the gardener. That runs about five hundred dollars a month. It's a steal of a deal for this neighborhood. I originally thought I wouldn't be around very much, but things have been stressed in my relationship, and I'm not sure how it's going to pan out." I pause for a moment, thinking about the last few days.
"That's cool. I rarely bring my men home, but if I wanted to bring someone over, would that be a problem?"
"No, as long as they don't end up living here. I ask that you keep your sexual activities in your room. I expect my housemate to be neat and tidy. I'm not a clean freak unless I'm stressed. I take my frustrations out on the mop and vacuum."
Her eyes scan the room. "So, I guess you're having a bit of a bad day? The house is immaculate."
"Yes, it's been a hectic week. Listen, it's lunchtime. Do you want to get a bite to eat so we can get to know each other a bit more?" I look at her expectantly.
"That sounds like a great idea." She twirls around once more before we leave the bedroom. We gather our stuff and make our way to Abe's Diner a few blocks away.
Roxy and I spend the next hour learning about each other. Her name is Roxanne Somerville, and she is the middle child of a disappointed set of parents. They expected more from her than she expected from herself. She reminds me of Kat in many ways. She is candid and open. I can see why Chris and Trevor thought she would be a good fit.
I knew I liked her the minute the box of sex toys spilled all over the floor. She didn't freak out. She just laughed and joked about it. By the end of lunch, I tell her that if she wants the room, then it's hers. She lets out a big whoop that startles our fellow diners. Maybe I wasn't so wrong with my preconceived notion of who she is. She is a girl who can kick ass, but her demure look threw me off.
She plans to move in right away. I hand her a spare key, and we go our own way. I feel good knowing there will be someone living in the house. This house means a lot to me. It's the last gift my mom gave me. After she passed away and they read her will, it came out that she had taken out a large life insurance policy on herself. I think she always knew she would die young. She set up a trust for me, and I inherited the money the day I turned eighteen. It was enough to buy a car and put a sizable down payment on my house. I paid the remaining balance off with the money I earned escorting.
I walk several blocks back home with my mind full of thoughts and emotions. Anthony's presence this morning changed everything for me. I was so convinced we were finished. I was preparing myself for months of heartbreak and healing. He shows up, and I melt. What does that say about me?
Dr. Lydell is definitely on my list of things to schedule. I need to work out these crazy thoughts that are surfacing. My emotions are all over the place. I pull my phone out to make the call. I know her office is closed, but at least I can leave a message.
I see my phone, and I've missed Anthony's call, showing he is in Dallas. He's hitting the ground running but will catch up with me later. The second message is from the Los Angeles Times reporter asking me to call him so we can set up a time to meet.
With all the drama over the last few days, I almost forgot about the crisis Ahz is facing. I call the reporter to set up a personal meeting tomorrow. I'll take him to the restaurant where he'll ask the questions, and we'll have lunch. After that, I'll give him a behind-the-scenes tour of the club.
My notebook is full of things I have to do. I browse through the list, checking off the items I've completed, and make a new list of the things I haven't been able to get to. I've sent the invitations for the prom to over seven hundred people. I used an acrostic poem.
P eople dressed in uncomfortable clothes.
R ipping their seams on the dance floor.
O h… my gosh, the punch is so good.
M aybe prom will be fun.
You are cordially invited to travel back in time to your prom. If you loved it the first time, then relive it. If you didn't go, don't miss your second chance. If it fell way below your expectations, you know you'll love the prom at Ahz. We are pulling out all the stops to make sure this is a night you will remember.
I'll need to check on the RSVPs that have come back. Trevor is in charge of that. He's a bit of a control freak and wants to know the who's who that will be attending. He's like our very own Perez Hilton.
Back in the house, I think about my prom experience and what I'll be wearing. Anthony promised to match his Chucks to my dress. I don't plan to make it easy for him. I rummage through my closet to find the hot-pink dress I wore to the only dance I ever attended in high school. I have no idea why I kept the dress, but I think it's because it has sentimental value. I attended homecoming with Chris. It was such a glorious night, with no pressure and no expectations, just a lot of dancing.
I take a picture of the dress with my phone and send it to Anthony.
Start looking for the perfect match.
I found the perfect match the day I met you. What are you doing?
I was planning my outfit for prom. It's a big day in a girl's life.
If I could roll my eyes, I would. Unfortunately, he's not around to see it.
You aren't going to make this easy, are you?
Have I made anything easy for you?
No, but you've made it worth it. I'll get on it. I love you. I gotta run.
I put my phone into my back pocket and smile.