Anywhere With You (13 page)

“You should consider freelancing,” Jack mentioned, breaking the silence. It had turned from light to pitch black outside, and the drizzle had morphed into a steady rainfall. I had tried dozing off, but I was too angry for anything more than a restless sleep, and so I eventually gave up. “If things don’t work out at your job, I mean.”

“I don’t want to freelance.”

He tried handing me a bottle of water, a peace offering. I shook my head and turned away. “I think you’d be great at it… you really should give some thought.”

I didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry for snooping, Amelie.”

“I’m sorry for being surprised.” I shot back, unable to help myself.

“You are very talented.” He took a deep breath. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m in love with you either…”

And there it was. He’d just handed over one more reason to run.

Jack

The greatest sins are the kind that’ll do you in.

I saw it in her eyes first. She was going to run. I’d forced her hand, and she was about to tap out. As we checked into the hotel, I considered what to do about it. Really, I only had two options. Let her go. Or teach her to stay. I decided on the latter.

“Are you hungry?” I asked on the way up to our room.

“Starving,” she answered. Her thoughts seemed somewhere far off.

I left it at that. But once we were in the room, no longer able to contain my anger, I lit into her. “What are you thinking?”

“Huh?” She turned, taking her attention off the minibar.

This is when I saw the third option. It was one I hadn’t considered. I decided to play dirty.

“About food?” I said, unpacking my suitcase. “What are you hungry for?”

She shrugged.

“Well, I was thinking that we should have a drink and then take the shuttle into town.”

She cocked her head, bit her bottom lip, and then nodded as though my suggestion had confirmed something she already believed. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“Yeah, well, a wise person once told me that one wouldn’t kill me.”

Amelie smiled curtly and then her eyes fell to the floor. “Better watch out, it just might,” she said her eyes meeting mine.

I smiled, thinking she had no idea how right she was.

I did end up stopping at one drink. But Amelie didn’t need to know that. As far as she was concerned, we’d gone the four rounds it took to wipe out the mini bar. Once satisfied with her level of inebriation, I called room service and ordered dinner in.

“I thought we were going into town,” she pouted.

I crossed the room and putting some distance between us. Then I sat down in the armchair across from the bed where I knew she’d eventually spread out. “Why? When we can have so much more fun here?”

“We should do something crazy!” she slurred.

I raised my brow and then grinned. “Oh, we are”

“What’s that?” she asked half playfully, half shy. I’d always loved that expression she made.

“Well, for one, I’m going to strip you down, and then we’re going to shower. And by the time we’re done, dinner will be here.”

Her expression gave her confusion away. “And then what?”

“And then I’m going to take my time with you.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t sound very crazy.”

I pursed my lips. “Oh, trust me. It will be.”

Amelie and I showered together, and then, still dripping wet, slipped into bed under the covers to find warmth within each other. She was giddy, drunk. Childlike and happy. I wasn’t yet ready to employ my plan of getting straight answers out of her. I was just about to make love to her when room service arrived with dinner. I stood, wrapped a towel around myself and then searched my pants pockets for my wallet, looking for the cash I needed for the tip. From the corner of my eye, I watched Amelie tear the sheet from the bed, wrap herself in it and beat me to the door.

“I got it,” she slurred as she flung open the door. It’s rude to keep them waiting—”

Her voice instantly trailed off, and I turned toward her to see why she’d suddenly gone silent.

It turned out that Amelie's fiancé and room service are not the same thing.

“Ian,” I cleared my throat. And then I made my way over to the door and stepped between him and Amelie.

“What in the hell is going on here?” he shouted.

I turned to Amelie, giving her the chance to answer only to find that she’d turned as white as a ghost.

“Probably about what it looks like,” I replied, nudging Amelie further back into the room with my hip.

“Jack—don’t,” she said, her voice barely audible.

I closed the door a little more so that it was only halfway open.

Ian raised his voice as he spoke. “I want answers, damn it!” He attempted to push on the door, but I held it in place. Amelie stood just behind it, her back against the wall. When I looked back at her, she had her face in her hands.

“Amelie! I deserve answers, don’t you think! Amelie! Answer me!”

I opened the door ever so slightly to allow her the opportunity to speak for herself. She didn’t look up, and I took that to mean she didn’t want it.

Ian peered in, and as my eyes followed his gaze, I realized he was taking in the state of the room. The empty liquor bottles on the counter, clothes strewn about the floor. His face reddened, and I watched as his stance shifted.

“I think you need to go,” I told him, calmly.

“Oh, so I see what this is,” he spat banging his fist against the wall, just outside the door.

At this point, a few brave and curious folks began to open the doors to their room and peer out, some simply being nosey while others just wanted to know what the commotion was all about.

“There’s nothing to see here,” I informed a middle-aged man, three doors down.

“Like hell there isn’t!” Ian shouted. “We’re supposed to be getting married in ten days and here you’ve kidnapped my fiancée. You’ve gotten her drunk, and I’m sure you’ve done God knows what with her!”

“Amelie’s no child,” I said, my jaw set. “And if you want to know what we did… ask her.”

“No,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ian sighed and from there, his voice only grew louder. “I don’t suppose she is a kid…you’re right. I thought you were a faggot when, in fact, you’re just an asshole…and as for her, well, she’s A DAMNED DRUNKEN WHORE, THAT’S WHAT SHE—”

I shut him up by clocking him with the best right hook I could muster, landing it directly beneath his chin, sending him to the ground immediately. I stared at him lying there, out cold. And I considered that I probably shouldn’t have hit him. But he’d caught me off guard. For starters. Amelie hadn’t told me she’d planned to marry him in a week in a half. Also, although I wasn’t happy with her—I couldn’t let him make gay people and the both of us look bad. I could take it—but guys like Ian liked to pick on people who didn’t deserve it. And that’s why he got hit.

“Jack!” Amelie huffed as she burst from the room and knelt at his side. “Oh, my God, Jack. Look what’ve you done.”

“He’ll be all right,” I said, shaking my head.

And the truth was the bastard would be all right. Save for a slight concussion and busted jaw, that is.

As for me, I wound up in the slammer.

I exited the county courthouse after spending the night behind bars. I emerged damp and filthy—tired and hungry. As I stepped out into the early morning light, I took a deep breath, the first I realized I’d actually taken since being handcuffed and placed in the back of a squad car the night before. I attempted to search for a cab, only the summer sun proved to be too much, so much so that I had to shield my eyes. When they’d finally adjusted, I looked up and there she was, just across the street, leaning against my Jeep, arms folded. She was wearing a white sundress, her blonde hair braided across one shoulder. For a moment, my mind couldn’t rationalize how something so angelic looking could be anything but. She met my eye and smiled, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss her—or kill her.

At the hearing just prior to my making bail, I’d been informed that I’d been officially charged with assault. I pled not guilty, made bail, and stepped out into the cool morning air. As I walked toward Amelie, I considered that they might need to adjust the charges once I was done with her.

“Hello, Jack,” she quipped, attempting to keep her voice neutral.

I ignored her and scooted past, reaching around to open the driver’s side door. She studied my face as I reached out, took the keys from her, climbed into the driver’s seat, and turned the ignition. I closed the door and watched her watching me. I gave a slight nod, put the Jeep in gear, and drove off. I didn’t look back.

I’d hardly driven six miles outside of town before my anger got the best of me, and I pulled over to catch my breath and steady my thoughts. It wasn’t just my anger at Amelie that had reached its boiling point. It was also my anger at myself. I turned the Jeep around at sat there for a moment, unsure what to do. I was only actually sure of two things. One, I was running. Also, that I was tired of running.

One way or the other, I was determined to put this whole mess behind me. And I decided to start with her.

As I pulled up to the courthouse, there she was seated on the curb in the same place I’d left her. I watched as the broken sunlight passed through the oak trees and lit the side of her face. And it made me sick to think that I wanted to stay there watching like that. I knew she’d heard the Jeep pull up, but she refused to look at me. Without shutting the engine off, I got out and walked toward her.

When I got to where she was seated, I stood towering over her, blocking the sun. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.

She looked away, down the block.

I shifted my stance. “Had you seriously planned on marrying him in ten fucking days?”

She refused me an answer.

I exhaled and then sat down beside her. For a long time, we sat that way watching the people go by, each of them in their own little world, oblivious to the fact that mine was breaking in two.

Eventually, I threw my head back and gazed up at the cloudless sky. “I should have known,” I told her. “This is always your M.O. You have me—and you have him, whomever
him
happens to be at the moment—and this way, you don’t really have to give yourself to anyone. You’re a juggler, that way. You always have been. And the reason I’m drawn to that is because…I get it. I’m the same. The trouble is I don’t want to be the same anymore. Two wrongs never did make a right. And I can’t keep doing this, Amelie. Going around and around. You’ve always been a very good friend to me, and yet, somehow, we always managed to blur that line, and each and every time, and without fail, it ends up in disaster. I thought we could go on this trip and that it would bring us closer together.” I sighed slightly and continued. She still refused to look at me. “I don’t know what I thought, to tell you the truth. Maybe a part of me thought I could win. That I could make you see, maybe even that I could make you different. But I can’t. And I realize now that not only can I not win, but we’re not even playing the same game.”