Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Romeo
Cynthia stands in the hallway, in one of her oversized linen suits, a puzzled look on her face. "What's happening?" She motions to the door to Ivy's room.
"Are you listening to my girlfriend masturbate?" I shake my head with faux disapproval. She's not the type to eavesdrop. And she's not a voyeur. Not as far as I know. "Naughty."
"No. Unless she has that condition where you laugh when you come." She moves a little closer to the door.
I follow.
Sure enough, Ivy is cracking up. It's not the rich, throaty laugh I know. It's a gut-busting, full-on set of the giggles.
Like she'll never stop laughing.
"She's probably talking about my sexual abilities," I tease.
Cynthia smiles. "Please, Rome. Your number was written in the girl’s bathroom in high school. ‘For an orgasm call Romeo.’”
One of my high school girlfriends did write that.
It only stayed up for a few days. Then teachers discovered it, removed it, and called me into the office to discuss appropriate use of language.
Though I’m not sure what I was supposed to do.
It’s not like I wrote it. "That's only because other high school boys didn't know about cunnilingus.”
She nods true.
"Maybe it went to my head." I tap. "And she finds it hilarious."
"I'm sure…" She stares at the door with curiosity in her eyes.
It is curious. But I like it too much to care. Ivy laughing until she can't breathe. That's almost as good as Ivy coming until she can't breathe.
Maybe it's better.
In a certain way.
Fuck. I must be in too deep if I'd rather make the woman laugh than come. But then again, I'm far better at making women come. It's not a challenge these days.
"Does it matter?" I ask.
Cynthia looks at me funny. "Does it matter, if your girlfriend thinks you're a terrible lay?"
"Does it matter why she's laughing?"
She steps away from the door. "Don't you want to know who she's talking to?"
I do. And I don't, too. I like the image of her laughing with a friend. Especially if it's about me.
But I don't want to hear every word, exactly. I like not knowing. I like the freedom to imagine whatever I want.
"Mystery is what keeps passion alive." It's an automatic response. A cliche. But the second the words fill the air, I know they're true.
"Isn't that what people say when they can't be honest with each other?" Cynthia asks.
"You live with Daniel," I say.
She nods obviously.
"Do you feel more passionate, seeing his laundry?" I ask.
"Sorta, but actually… can I talk to you about something?" she asks. "About us, actually."
Is there an us? "Sure." I play cool. "Is it a big deal?"
"No, I just… I never apologized for when we were kids and I, and we…" She clears her throat. "I didn't realize it then, but I was using you, to try something out. I knew I only had eyes for Danny, and I… I'm sorry. That was fucked of me."
"It's cool. It was good for my ego to deal with a little rejection."
She smiles. "You ever tell him?"
I shake my head.
"Would you mind if I did?"
"No." I don't know if she should, but I trust her instincts. I wonder what Ivy suggested. If this came from her. Which parts of it did. But I trust Ivy too. She wants the best for Cynthia. "If you think it will bring you together."
She nods. "How is everything with Ivy?"
"What did she say to you?"
"Not much. She's secretive."
She is that. "I like her. A lot. But I'm not sure if she's ready for all this."
Cynthia nods. "She did say the sex is good."
"And…"
Cynthia moves away from the hall, releasing her interest in Ivy, shifting it to me. "We used to talk about this kind of stuff, you know."
Yeah. Before we kissed. Before she stated dating my brother. "I'm not sure I want reciprocal information. I don't need details on my brother's skills."
"Please, you'd eat up every word."
"I would. But that doesn't mean I want them."
She laughs. "Well, I'm about to be a married woman. You know what that means? One dick, for the rest of my life. So, I want details. I want dirty stories. Whatever you've got."
How can I be honest without sharing everything? "There was a woman. Before Ivy. A regular."
Her brow furrows in confusion.
Right. That's not how we refer to people in our lives. "In my rotation."
"You had a harem?" she asks.
I suppose that's one way to put it. "Women who enjoy my company, who's company I enjoy, without any expectations of the future from either of us."
She nods uh-huh, sure.
"They would come and go." That is true. "But I saw this woman every month. She was a little older. A widow. Lonely. Not ready to fall in love again, but ready to fill other needs."
"Get to the dirty part," she says.
So, I share a story. The night we tried all the things she always wanted to do with her husband. Well, the first one. Then the second.
It was all normal stuff. Sixty-nine. Light bondage. Role play. Wax.
I even brought her to a club once. At her request. She didn't want to play with anyone there, but she did want to watch, to see the action.
Cynthia listens with rapt attention. She's so struck by my story she nearly falls down the stairs. Then almost walks into the sliding glass door to the backyard.
By the time Ivy arrives in the backyard, Cynthia's jaw is just about on the floor. Even so, she snaps right back to concerned de facto sibling mode right away.
She looks at Ivy carefully, assessing her latest business casual outfit (another monochrome teal and slacks).
Ivy smiles back at her.
Cynthia forces her expression into something neutral. "Who were you talking to?" she asks.
"Meredith," she says. "She said you look fantastic in the dress by the way."
Cynthia beams.
"Cynthia thinks you were talking about me," I say. "Laughing over my belief I'm a superior lover."
"I did not say that." Cynthia slips further into her teenage older sister mode. "He said that."
"It's good he can laugh at himself." Ivy smiles. "What's our torture today?"
"Doctor Vaughn, are you suggesting my mother arranged this week to cause us pain rather than strengthen our bonds?" I tease her.
"I suppose I should be on the side of team-building games," she says. "Professionally."
"Are you not?" Cynthia asks, genuine curiosity in her voice.
"They can help," Ivy says. "And people underestimate how much a few positive interactions can change your feelings towards a person.
Sometimes, a few games help get people to a place where they can open up.
Sometimes, they distract from the deeper problems. It's like anything, really.
It depends on the people. The circumstances. "
Cynthia nods in understanding.
"Have you found these exercises helpful?" Ivy asks. "In getting you ready for marriage?"
"In some ways," Cynthia says. "But I'm nervous." She looks around the space, noting the continued absence of her fiancé and my mother. "It's hard to live up to the image of the late Carlos Flores as spouse of the century."
Cynthia feels that too?
I've never considered it in those terms. Mom loves Cynthia, has always loved Cynthia and Daniel together, loved their story.
But Dad is too much for anyone to live up to.
"Do you want me to talk to her?" I ask.
"No, thanks." Cynthia smiles. "I have to let go. Stop worrying what other people think of me." She gives me a kiss on the cheek. "But thanks, Rome. It's good to have you back, you know?"
"I do."
Our team-building game for the day is an escape room. After breakfast, we pile into two cars, and take the 405 to a place in a strip mall.
In quite the surprising move, Mom chooses the horror-based room. A mad professor locks Daniel and I into the "professor's laboratory" as Cynthia, Ivy, and Mom move into the library.
We've each got our own set of clues to find.
They need to get the key to unlock us.
We need to find the lever that leads us down the stairs, to the next phase of the riddle.
Daniel slips into older brother mode, easily, ordering me to examine the bookshelf while he studies a stack of fake equipment in the corner.
I almost tell him to fuck off as a reflex. When I don't, I find a deeper instinct. The desire to listen to my older brother. Trust him to lead me. Guide me. Love me.
It's not that I don't believe he loves me as a brother.
But I don't think he likes me. Accepts me. Thinks I'm capable of anything.
I study the books in the corner. Three are real. Two are fake. I find a strip of paper in each. Put them together to find a riddle.
It's an old one. Easy. A magic word.
Lamp.
I show them to Daniel.
He sees it right away.
The lamp in the corner. But it's locked in a birdcage. For some reason.
Weird choice.
I read the clue again. Something about a typewriter. I motion to the stack of stuff in the corner.
Daniel peaks under the typewriter and finds it there. An ornate key.
Sure enough, it turns the lock.
And when we open the cage, and turn the light, a sound plays through the room. That's it. We've solved this phase of the puzzle.
The game master announcers our success and moves to help the ladies in their share of the quest.
"You know, I didn't think you had it in you," Daniel says. "But you do."
Huh?
"You've put Ivy first," he says. "Put Cynthia first. Put me first. If the business plan checks out, okay.
I'm in. I can't start until after the honeymoon, in January. And we still need mom’s money.
But once we have it, we can hit the ground running.
I like this new version of you, the one with a girlfriend. "
Everything I want.
If I can keep Ivy around until January.