26
“This is nice,” I tell Blakeas I sit at the small round table in his apartment above the mechanics’ garage, a two-minute drive from the shooting club. His apartment is three times larger than mine, with a separate bedroom and bathroom down a short hall. “However, I notice you don’t have a balcony.”
“Don’t need one,” he states, taking the pizza out of the oven using a tea towel and placing it on a wooden board in the center of the table. “I’m too busy to sit around gazing at the view anyway.”
“Do you work in the garage downstairs?” I ask as he takes three cans of beer from the fridge, and I assume the third one is also for him.
“Yeah, when they need an extra pair of hands,” he answers. I suspect there is more to the story, but Blake is a charming bundle of secrets and is unlikely to tell me yet. “Built my truck.”
Blake drives an old white Dodge pickup that doesn’t look like it’s been modernized, so I’m not sure what they did to build it. After my shooting session with Til at the range, I followed him here, lured by homemade pizza and curiosity. Who would’ve thought shooting the living crap out of a target would make me ravenous.
“Two kinds of cheese, camembert, and mozzarella,” he proudly states, rolling the pizza cutter over the large, tantalizing round.
“I’m starving,” I mumble, reaching for a slice as a knock strikes the door.
“Now, I wonder who that could be,” he says, grabbing a can. I realize he was expecting this person, and my heart drops, and I realize that I won’t be spending alone time with Blake. On the other hand, I’m eager to meet someone from his personal life who might be able to fill some gaps.
Blake swings the door open enthusiastically, and my mouth drops open at who is on the other side. “What the fuck?” I hiss, almost choking on my pizza.
“Hello to you too,” Cormac says, walking in like he’s been here many times before and taking the beer from Blake’s hand.
“I want an explanation. Pronto,” I growl, tossing my slice down and glaring at the two men I have been seeing for the last couple of weeks. “Wait. Are you two secret lovers or something?”
“No,” Cormac answers, bending down to kiss my forehead, and I immediately recoil from his touch and give him a warning scowl.
“I’m not pissed off that you two know each other. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” Addressing Blake, “I specifically asked you if you knew Cormac Bernardi, and you said no.”
“Thorn, why did you lie?” Cormac mocks. They’re taking the piss, and I’m their victim.
“I’m not laughing,” I bark at him before Blake can answer. “And Thorn? Thorn?”
“I’m Thorn,” Blake states. It’s my surname—well, Thornton, to be precise.”
“But you had Blake in your contacts,” I argue with Cormac.
Cormac frowns as Blake grins, highly entertained by the drama he is half responsible for. “Have you been scrolling through my contacts, Rae?” Cormac asks in a mock, accusing way.
“No, I saw his name flash up one time. And don’t you start accusing me of dishonesty when…hello,” point my finger at them, “you neglected to mention that you knew Blake. And why did you change his name in your contacts to Thorn?”
“We’ll answer your questions over beer and pizza. Alright?” Blake says smoothly as he takes the seat opposite, and the 6 ft 4 in swimmer pulls out the chair next to me.
“Now, just calm down, Rae,” Cormac adds unhelpfully.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” I bellow, pulling the grab on my can of beer. The froth belches out of the drink hole and spills onto the table.
“Bro, number one rule with women,” Blake lectures Cormac, “do not tell them to calm down because, as stated here,” points his can of beer at me. “they don’t like it, no they don’t. One might say, volcanic.”
“Women are hard to read, Thorn,” Cormac replies as if I’m not in the room with them. Someone should write a book for men about women and use sports analogies or something so we can understand it.”
“There are books, YouTube, and TED talks,” I educate him, although I can’t think of a title right now. “How do you two know each other?”
Blake sips his beer and swallows before answering, “Childhood neighbors. Cormac’s folks sometimes took me in when my mom forgot to come home or brought some sleazy guy from the bar.”
“Jeezus, Blake, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, my mom had good days and bad, but mostly good.” He leans forward and pats Cormac on the shoulder. “This guy was only knee high to a grasshopper, barely out of the crib, when his ma started feeding me and letting me hang out at their place. Good folks are never too far away. Remember that, Rae, good folks are never too far away.” He signals for me to eat my slice of pizza. “Don’t let it get cold.”
I find myself in a dilemma on whether or not Cormac and his family know of the extracurricular activities that Blake gets up to. Let’s not forget who Cormac’s daddy is. But I could put Blake in the deep shit by mentioning his connection with Smiler, but then, would Cormac believe me. I don’t even know who Smiler is or what he looks like, although in my mind’s eye, he’s similar to Marlon Brando, who plays Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather.
“And why did you not tell me you knew each other?” I ask, chewing a bite of pizza and humming at the cheesy, salty flavor. “This is good.”
“Because we didn’t know if you’d be open to dating the both of us, so we thought we’d string you along for a while-” Cormac reads my angry face and stops speaking.
“String me along?” I hiss, and bits of food fly out of my mouth.
“Just for fun. Aphid goo and all,” Cormac finishes after I interrupt him.
Blake snorts in laughter. “Rest assured, Rae, we can be mighty tribal at times. So, I’m warning you, we don’t want you dating anyone else.”
“Don’t I have a choice in this matter?” I anger.
“Nope,” they answer together, and I’m instantly muddled by their overt stubbornness.
“We’ll see,” I hit back, showing that I’m more than capable of being just as pigheaded. “Is that why you changed his name in your contacts? Was it because you thought I’d know what you two were up to?” I ask Cormac.
“Yes. Anyway, what’s going on with you tonight?” Cormac asks, hitting me with that penetrating stare as if searching for my soul. We had a date, and you broke it off to shoot your,” he makes a gun-hand gesture, “Glock.” He’s annoyed, and I don’t blame him. After all, he’s the man who wiped aphid sludge off my face like a true gentleman, so he deserves an explanation. “What gives?”
I dither a few moments, scrounging together a story. “When I moved back to Torres Island, I had no intention of getting involved with anyone. I wanted to focus on my studies.” I’m not convincing them with my speech, but it gives me time to contrive a lie.
“You failed,” Blake smiles, biting into a slice of pizza.
“You pursued me. It wasn’t the other way around, I assure you,” I argue. “I’m perfectly happy alone.”
“You said yes,” Blake points out. “You said yes to my bro here, and you said yes to me. We’re men, and you’re an outstandingly beautiful woman, so of course, we’re gonna mark our territory like tom cats and chase after you.”
“Your explanation doesn’t cut, either,” Cormac states as I detect a hint of hurt behind his eyes, and guilt burrows its way into my conscience.
“I had a bad day and need to let off steam.” I don’t remember driving to the shooting club, but I do remember taking the Glock from the bottom drawer and placing it in my bag with the intention of driving over to Lyons house and killing him. Somewhere from when I left my apartment to when I left the parking garage, I decided to practice at the range first to give me courage, and then I was going to head out to Lyons house in the affluent suburbs. Upon reflection, I’m glad Blake stopped me because I was riding on rage from being threatened by the obviously paid messengers. I shudder, thinking about that moment as my stomach stirs a little in nausea.
“How bad?” Cormac pursues, relinquishing to drop the subject because I haven’t given him enough to be satisfied.
My chest tightens as I make up all sorts of fake scenarios to tell him, but none come close to the truth. So, I decide to tell them the truth, well, part of the truth. “Two men…” I confess, “Um, as I was walking to my car in the parking garage beneath my apartment block, um,” I breathe as rage storms through every cell in my body.
“You were jumped?” Blake cuts in, furrowing his brow.
“Fuck, Rae, why didn’t you say something?” Cormac seethes. “What did they do?”
“Threaten me. I think they confused me with someone else. Anyway, there was a woman from my building who had been stalked and attacked in the parking garage, so I wonder if it was them,” I lie.
“Did you go to the police about them?” Naturally, it’s Cormac who asks this.
“No. There’s no point. They didn’t touch me,” I lie again. “They were just trying to scare me, I think. You know, a lone woman in the dark…the usual scenario.” I wave my hand dismissively. “Anyway, I don’t want to make a big deal.”
There are several moments of silence during which the men seem to reflect on what I was saying, and Blake breaks the bubble first. “Got a description?” His tone sends a shiver down my spine. He seems a world away from his usual likable, charming character.
“No, it was quite dark, so I didn’t see them clearly. I guess two guys in their thirties, wearing sweats with a thuggish demeanor,” I tell him.
“So, you decided to offload your anger at the shooting range?” Cormac clarifies, “Instead of talking to me.”
I cringe. “I’m not looking for a hero, Cormac. Besides, you’ve got enough on your plate with the Nationals coming up.”
“Fuck the Nationals, Rae. Human life is more important-”
“You’ve only just met me,” I interrupt his argument. “How do you know I’m worth ruining your career over?”
“I know,” Cormac says with stealthy confidence that I cannot fathom. “And life goes on beyond swim training and gold medals.”
Blake leans back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest, and starts bumping his knee irritably. Cormac glances in his direction. “Spill, Thorn,” he encourages as Blake chews on the inside of his mouth as if something is eating away at him.
“I’m calling horseshit,” he finally states, watching me closely, and my cheeks burn from being caught out on a lie. “There’s something you’re not telling us, but that’s okay because I know you don’t trust us yet.”
Cormac addresses Blake, “Are you saying her story came out of thin air?”
“No, I’m saying that she’s hiding her reason for purchasing the gun, and I’ll tell you right now, the look on her face when she shoots that gun.” His eyes never leave my face as he answers Cormac. “This girl here,” nodding towards me, “has got revenge on her mind.”
“That”s ridiculous,” I argue, sipping my beer to cool the fire burning inside me.
Blake graces me with one of his lady-killer smiles. “I saw the look in your eyes, Rae. That’s the only evidence I need to know that you’ve got plans, and I hope those plans don’t involve doing something you might regret.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to judge someone else’s moral compass,” I bite, lowering my head to glare at him under my eyelashes, hoping he’d get the message loud and clear before I blurt his little secret.
That smile of his stretches wider, entertained by my temper. “Maybe you should just eat that pizza I made with tender loving care.”
“Why, have you put a date rape drug in it?” I’m half joking, but how well do I know these guys?
“Holy hell, Rae, where are you getting this attitude from?” Blake crows, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. “That is not how we roll, sweetheart.”
“Here,” Cormac grabs a slice, takes a large bite, and chews. Let me be the queen’s food taster. If I happen to fall asleep right here, drugged out, you’re welcome to take advantage of me.”
“Eat mine instead,” I challenge him, flaring my nostrils heatedly.
“Sure,” he says, folding my slice in half and shoveling it into his mouth. Then, he brushes the crumbs from his hands. “Is this Bernardi sauce?”
That’s the only recipe I use now,” Blake states, shoving a bite of pizza in his mouth. “See what you’re missing out on, Rae. Grandma Bernardi’s ancient Italian tomato sauce recipe.”
“Well, I guess I can’t offend Nonna Bernardi,” I say, satisfied that they’re not drugging me. Instinctively, I know they’re not the type, but I’m extra cautious since a couple of paid thugs just threatened me. Fuck Lyons.
Grabbing another slice under their watch, I bite it into it, and the atmosphere relaxes as the boys chat about their youth and Nonna Bernardi’s intolerance of Cormac’s Irish mom’s cooking. My ears prick, and my heart flutters every time Gabe is mentioned. They both call him Big Gabe, which I find endearing, and it’s evident they hold enormous respect for him.
After listening for about forty minutes, I noticed they never talk about Cormac’s mom in the present tense but rather when reminiscing about their childhoods. I wonder if she has left them or passed away. I don’t ask because I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I enjoy being in the company of two intriguing and hot men as they open up about their childhoods.
Fatigue wears me down a little after such an eventful and dramatic day, and when I yawn, the guys stop talking.
“Are we that boring?” Blake jokes.
“No, I had a long day and,” check the time on my phone, “I probably should go home.”
“Stay over,” Blake suggests, pointing his thumb behind him to the hallway where his bedroom is. He must’ve caught the fear in my eyes because he added, “I won’t touch. I’ll sleep on the couch while you take my bed.”
I look to Cormac for input since it was his place where I was supposed to stay tonight, but he shrugs those shoulders. “This was not exactly what I imagined this night would go.”
“Stay over too, bro. Look, you and Rae have the bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch,” Blake offers, and Cormac’s gaze warms as he looks at me.
“Is that cool?” he asks me.
I nod a yes, finding this situation odd. “Do you mind if I head to bed now?” I ask Blake, barely able to keep my eyes open and yawning again.
“Sure,” Blake says, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’ll show you the way and tuck you in.”
I grab my bag and follow Blake down the hall to his bedroom. There, I find a king-size bed covered in a dark blue comforter. But it’s a warm night, so I’ll probably sleep under a single sheet. The room smells of Blake’s cologne and soap mixed with something else, maybe gunpowder. Joke.
I sit on the end of the bed and take my hair out as he lingers by the door, those dark eyes watching my golden hair tumble down my back. He moves closer, and I gaze up at that open face, dimpled cheek, and those eyes smile at me.
“We’re not here to hurt you, Rae,” he whispers, stroking my hair with his hand, moving to the nape of my neck and tilting my head toward his face. “I’m just down the hall if you need me. Okay?”
I nod and part my lips as he leans down and possesses my mouth, slipping his tongue inside me, dancing with my tongue, running it over my teeth and gums, drawing an erotic sigh from me. My hands latched onto his muscular forearms, digging my fingers into his skin.
He pulls away too soon and kisses my forehead before leaving, and I reluctantly let his arms go. As soon as the door is closed, fatigue claims me, and I peel off my clothes and bra, slip on an old T-shirt, and strip back the sheets.
My head sinks into the pillow, inhaling the scent of shampoo, as the gentle murmurs of the two men only a wall away send me into a much-needed slumber.