9. Renne
Renne
Pete and I spoke about the incident with Connor. Understandably, after working a long shift, Pete was tired and unhappy that Connor came at him. When I asked why he didn’t drive up to the manor, he said he’d hoped I’d stay the night. He said he really likes me and wants us to go out at least once.
Despite feeling like a chess piece between him and Connor, I agreed to a date. But I also asked Pete to treat Connor Crossbow as if he were a fellow surgeon rather than an unworthy criminal. Pete does have that air of superiority about him that would irritate just about anyone.
It’s Saturday night, and Pete and I are going out on our date.
I’m wearing a little black dress that hugs my body.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I turn sideways, trying to see myself at that angle.
It’s a small bathroom in a small apartment, and I don’t own a full-length mirror, so I grab the kitchen stool and climb up on it.
Dina put extensions in my hair, then styled it with curls that drape halfway down my back. We have a wedding rehearsal coming up, so she said we might as well put in the extensions tonight. If I take care of them, which I will, they’ll last awhile.
A pouch of baby fat I can’t seem to lose creates a small bump on my belly. I’m still deciding whether I like it. Otherwise, I look nice.
After the hair, Dina took Hanna up to the manor.
Connor picked them up but didn’t seem chatty.
I barely got a nod from him earlier today.
The morning after we hooked up, I was throwing out my trash and noticed a used bottle of shampoo.
It was indeed cherry-blossom scented. Since I don’t buy shampoo by brand or scent but by price, I didn’t realize its scent.
He could probably smell cherry blossoms in my hair and associated that with the smell of me down there. Whichever, Connor does eat well.
Really well.
I think about him when I play with myself.
Even though I shouldn’t. By all accounts, Pete is the correct choice for me, even if he’s a little forceful about wanting to get laid. Most guys want to laid. Hell, I want that.
A knock on the door heralds Pete’s arrival, and I put away the stool, take a deep breath, then open the door.
It’s Pete, in a nice pair of jeans and a white polo shirt paired with white sneakers.
It occurs to me that I hoped it would be Connor Crossbow. In a faded pair of jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt and boots. Tattoos. Rings on his fingers.
They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Yeah, well, everyone does it. Pete makes for a nice vanilla cover. Socially acceptable. Polite. A doctor. That’s what I want.
Renne is a distant memory, a stupid girl who tangled with Connor, but since he and I agreed that was a one-time thing, we’re over. Ekatia is the woman I need to be for my daughter, and Ekatia likes Pete.
“Wow, Ekatia, you look stunning,” he says.
“Thank you. You too.”
I grab my purse and close the door behind me, expecting Pete to head back to the car, but he blocks my path. We stand, facing each other, and his eyes hood when he looks at me.
“I think we should just go back to my place.”
I shrug. “That’s fine.”
“But I already bought the movie tickets and made reservations.”
“Whatever you want.”
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I’m fine either way.”
“Hmm.”
I smile up at him, hoping he’ll decide soon.
He tilts his head and seems as if he’ll kiss me. I close my eyes, and Connor’s face pops into my head when Pete pecks the corner of my mouth.
“You’re so hot,” he whispers. “The long hair suits you.” He runs his fingers through it and tugs. I don’t want my extensions yanked out, and for some awkward reason, the tug feels unwelcome. I don’t usually mind guys yanking my hair. I frown at my reaction and step away from him.
I want to go out with him for myself and for my daughter.
Ekatia (it’s so strange to think about myself in third person, but that’s what this new persona feels like) is a nice girl with a stable job and a child.
Renne is a wild woman with her hair down every day when she gets off from the job she works three twelve-hour days a week.
Renne parties hard and works hard. Ekatia is more balanced.
Structured. Or at least I’m trying to be.
I hook my hand under Pete’s elbow and rub his shoulder on the way to the car. Good. This is good. He works out and flexes his biceps under my touch. It’s cute how he tries to impress me. I like it.
I sit in his beautiful sports car, which is drenched in car freshener paired with men’s light cologne, and we take off toward the city.
“Which movie are we going to see?” I ask.
“Yord’s Yard.”
“What’s it about?”
“A derby horse. Ever heard of her?”
I shake my head.
“I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” He pats my thigh.
I frown, not liking how that makes me feel. “After the movie, I will have heard of the derby horse.”
Pete launches into the history of Yord’s Yard, namely the significance of the horse. Even though I would’ve preferred a different movie, like maybe a thriller, suspense, or mystery, I’ll watch anything that’s good and eat my popcorn.
At the counter, Pete orders a drink.
I get a drink too and add a medium popcorn with extra butter.
Pete pays for it and passes me the napkins, and we head to theater number ten.
Ten twenty-three was the room number that the rescue crew brought Connor to. I wasn’t supposed to be his nurse, but two local nurses heard that he’d been brought in and refused to show up for work. When the boss threatened to write them up, they quit.
Since I was a travel nurse, the Crossbow name meant nothing to me, and I treated him as if he were any other patient.
Albeit, one with handcuffs. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken care of a criminal, so I didn’t see the issue.
I was unimpressed with the nursing staff when no one wanted to help me with him, not even to carry a tray of food into his room.
Pete slides into a seat that’s seen many asses in its lifetime. “The new theater is still being built,” he comments.
I wonder what he’d say if he knew that Connor was helping develop that project for the city. I sit beside Pete.
“You can recline your seat.” He leans over me and pushes the button on my chair, and the seat reclines so suddenly that it throws me back, popcorn falling out of my hands and spilling across the floor.
“Oh no.” I grab what’s left of the bag and make a sad face because there’s only a little bit of popcorn at the bottom.
Pete almost rips the bag out of my hands. “I’ll get that.” He walks to the trash bin and dumps the popcorn out, then takes a wet napkin from his pocket and wipes his hands. When he sits back down, he hands me the napkin. “That much butter should be illegal, and it’s terrible for your heart.”
I push the button on the chair for the recliner to return to sitting and regard Pete, who’s taking a drink of his soda water. Did he spill my popcorn on purpose? Or am I crazy? Regardless, I’ve been looking forward to eating movie popcorn since I said yes to the date.
We’re not ten minutes in before Pete’s hand lands on my thigh.
He glides his hand up and up, stopping at my panties.
I don’t part my legs. I’m put off by the popcorn incident and, to be honest, even the movie.
This is some boring-ass movie about a horse.
It’s not the horse that’s the issue, because there are great movies about horses; it’s the narrative. It’s not holding my attention.
Still, I won’t say anything because I’m not rude.
Pete’s pinky rubs against my clit. Fine. He can make up for spilling my popcorn by making me come in the theater.
He slides my panties to the side and gets to rubbing.
I watch the movie.
Five minutes in, I’m dry, Pete’s wrist probably hurts, and he withdraws his hand to grab his soda.
“I was getting you ready for tonight,” he comments.
Oh God. “Thanks.” I guess. I mean, what else is there to say?
“Great movie, huh?”
“Amazing.”
My phone pings, and Pete gives me a dirty look.
“Shoot,” I whisper. “Sorry, it could be Dina.”
I mute the sound but don’t recognize the number. It goes to voice mail, but no message is left.
A text comes in from that number.
Hey, Mamma.
My heart somersaults. My heart is a dumbass.
Though not as dumb as my pussy, I tell you.
I guess I’m made up of two very important but dumb body parts that run my life, because my brain can’t unsee Connor on his knees working hard to make me orgasm in under a minute.
Nothing beats a dedicated pit bull after his bone.
Should I answer him? Should I answer a man while on a date with another man, a doctor who’s been trying to go out with me for months? Pete is a little awkward, but most doctors are. Intelligence is awkward for those of us who are less smart. It’s true. I’m not trying to talk down my intelligence.
Yes, I’m a nurse and went to college, but not to study. I went so I could get a job where I could get paid for caring for people and rewarded because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But let’s get one thing straight: I barely passed organic chemistry. I was not there for that.
A message pings again.
How is your date?
Pete gives me more stink eye, and I silence the phone. I consider ignoring Connor, but if I do that, he might show up here and demand that we text while Pete fingers me.
I’m at the movies. Shhhh.
I’ll whisper.
A chuckle escapes me.
Pete shakes his head. “If you want to step outside and text…”
“It’s Dina. I’ll be right back.” I walk out into the hallway and sit on the little green bench across from a giant poster of an ape on a horse. Is there a horse in every movie? I’ll have to think about that.
What movie are you watching?
Yard something.
The horse movie?
You know it?
No.
Me either. I’ve never seen a horse in real life.
Connor types, and I wait, but when he doesn’t hit Send, I return to the theater.
“Is everything okay?” Pete asks.
“Everything’s fine. Just a diaper rash question.”
We watch the movie. In the end, the horse dies.
When the lights come on, I’m sobbing, and Pete hands me a tissue from his pocket.
I want to blow snot into his tissue and shove it into his mouth for bringing me to a movie where the horse dies in the end.
Why would anyone make a movie where the main character dies?
Why would any man take a woman on a date to a movie where a horse dies?
If there is no HEA, I don’t want to watch it.
I don’t want to read it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.
“I don’t understand,” I sob into the tissue. I wish I never saw the movie. “She was such a great horse,” I say into the tissue. “Why did they do that to her?”
“Awww, there, there.” Pete pats my back. “It’s just a movie.”
I tuck the damp tissue into the front pocket of his jeans. “It’s never just a movie. It’s now part of me and my experience today. I experience everything.”
Pete frowns. “I didn’t realize you were this sensitive.”
“I’m a girl, you idiot.” I point at the final scene, which they’re running the credits over.
“You never said that it was a movie about a girl horse. Who died! What is wrong with you?” I storm outside and sit on the bench and cry.
I don’t think I’m crying because of the movie.
Though the movie was sad, and I wish I hadn’t seen it.
I’m also crying because I know Pete can never make me happy. Not after today. This kind of shit can’t be undone. And I’m so glad he insisted on going out with me, or I’d have been left wondering if we would have been a match. We’re not. The dead horse movie said so.
Two months ago, on my thirtieth birthday, Dina told me about Sergei, her ex, and how she knew from the start that he wasn’t the right choice for her, but she kept ignoring all the signs.
She said that you can tell a lot about a man from the first few dates when he’s trying to impress a girl.
She said you can tell if a man will make you happy by how you guys vibe and what he does for you.
I can’t teach Pete about his choice of movie or how he touched my thigh or how he pulled up into his underground parking lot without consulting me about it.
I know he knew I’d preferred he took me up to the manor so I could get my baby girl, but Pete ignored it.
He was annoyed with Connor because Connor pointed out his wrongs.
Connor’s treatment of Pete isn’t justified. But Connor had a point.
Pete stands next me, hands on his hips, occasionally checking his watch. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”
I’m about to tell him our date is over because I’m afraid he’ll take me to a restaurant to eat horse meat when Pete crouches in front of me and cups my face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would end this way.
I mean, I did because I knew the story, but I didn’t think they’d show it all quite like that.
They could’ve ended the story on the last win.
You know how sometimes the director gets carried away? ”
I sniff. “Thank you.”
“Come on, babe. We have a reservation at L’Octane.”
He keeps looking at me as if he expects a reaction.
“That’s impressive,” I say. I’ll read that menu carefully. And there better not be any pictures of horses anywhere. I hope nobody wears riding boots.