What A Person Wants (20 page)

I was in heaven! I moaned against her mouth before I moved onto her neck to lick and nibble on the sensitive skin there. I must have hit the right spot because she gasped and drew her legs tight around my waist.

“Oh my god, Richie!” she breathed into my ear before taking my earlobe into her mouth.

Her suckling and teasing was about to send me over the edge; I had to back off. It took every bit of energy I possessed to pull away from her and sit on the edge of the couch. I ran a shaky hand through my disheveled hair as I looked down at her: lips slightly bruised, panting, tee shirt rumpled and pulled up high on her belly showing off her smooth caramel skin. I wanted to kiss that taunt stretch of skin, but I resisted. One more touch from her and I was likely to shoot off in my pants like an over-anxious teenager.

She sat up slowly, eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?”

“I need a moment, honey, or else one of us is going to finish earlier than we’d like.”

Isabel laughed long and hard. She sat up and moved closer so she could cuddle next to me. I leaned back and put my arm around her, relishing the feeling of her in my arms.

Finally!

After a moment of comfortable silence, I said, “Well, since the tension has been broken, I have no problem telling you that I have had my eye on you for a long time.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you weren’t mine to have. You were one of Rhys’ closest friends and engaged to Kyle. What was I supposed to do? Potentially ruin a long-term friendship and break up a marriage before you even walked down the aisle?”

Isabel looked at me. “I suppose not. I spent a lot of time pining away for someone who didn’t give a damn about me. But not anymore.”

“Nope. Not anymore,” I co-signed.

“But what about Chloe?”

“Ugh, Isabel!” I exclaimed as I threw my head back and rolled my eyes. “I told you. There’s nothing-”

“I know there’s nothing going on. I only said that because I was angry. What I mean is you viewed her as your ‘perfect’ woman and I am nothing like her.” She buried her head in my chest and played with the buttons on my shirt.

“Isabel, I'm learning that not everything we want is what we need. I left a lot of loopholes open when I came up with the qualifications of my ideal woman. I got
exactly
what I asked for in Chloe. You, on the other hand, are everything I forgot to mention.”              She looked up at me and smiled. I kissed her forehead.

“That is such a bad romantic comedy cliché,” she said.

“Yeah, I know,” I chucked. “But I meant every word.”

We lay on the couch, holding each other. I couldn’t think of the last time I was this comfortable. Cradling Isabel to my chest while she dozed off was the last thing I expected to happen when I woke up this morning, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Rhys was right. I had spent so much time dwelling in the past that I was in danger of overlooking my future. Well, no more of that! I refuse to continue on as a weak man bested by his own horribly created monster. So long, Chloe the “perfect woman.” And hello, Isabel the love of my life. My friend.

Shortly, after my eyes grew heavy with sleep, I heard the sweetest words ever:
I love you, too.

ISABEL

It wasn’t long before word had spread through my humble circle that Richie Reyes and I were officially an item. The day after we spent the night together, Tara called, drilling me for information.

“Did he take you home? What did he say to you? Did you fuck him? Did you apologize for being a douche to him? How good a kisser is he?”

She barely left me any time to answer her questions. All I could do was laugh and recount the eventful night in between breaths. I couldn’t even get mad her numerous, “I told you so’s.” For years, Tara had been my voice of reason. This time was no different.

Rhys didn’t confront me about Richie until a couple weeks after Richie and I had begun seeing each other. Before I said anything about our new relationship, I made sure to ask him to forgive me for running out on him. Rhys seemed pretty cool about it. Instead, we spoke a lot about his impending separation from Tiffany. He had kicked her out of their apartment the same night Richie and I stayed together. All things considered, his marital issues were more important than my new relationship.

But I was thoroughly surprised when out of the blue one day he asked me why I never said anything about me and Richie being an item.

“I didn’t really think it was necessary to tell you right away,” I tried to explain carefully.

Rhys had given me a shit-eating grin. “You had to know that I knew. Richie and Tara couldn’t wait to spill the dirt.”

If there was ever a good time to slap my palm to my face that was it. Of course they snitched! Even if Richie didn’t say anything to Rhys right away, Tara would have been all too happy spill her guts.

“Are you mad?”

Rhys continued smiling.

“No, Izzy, I’m not mad at all. Y’all belong together. Besides, if he messes up and you leave him, you can use me as a backup plan. Not saying y’all will but, I’m just putting it out there. You have options.”

I gave a long, throaty laugh and he soon joined me. That was definitely one of our better days.

Two months later, and things are progressing nicely between Richie and I. We were lounging around his living room with Tara and Rhys, the four of us waiting for my baked macaroni and cheese to come out of the oven. Tara's best dish, rosemary baked chicken, rested on the stovetop while Richie's mixed green salad chilled in the refrigerator. We all had spent the chilly day indoors, giggling, acting silly and playing games like children. We genuinely enjoyed each other's company.

The delectable smells emanating from the kitchen were enough for my stomach to flip inside me, angry that I hadn’t fed it yet. I stretched out on a well-stuffed armchair that matched the plush sofa Tara reclined on next to me. Richie and Rhys went into the kitchen to grab some more beer for us to chug. Though the kitchen was out of my line of view, I could hear them joking and laughing in the kitchen. The happy sounds of my best friends brought a sense of peace over me. I smiled.

“Good lord, woman! There you go with that dopey grin again,” said Tara with a teasing roll of an eye.

“What?” I laughed.

Tara reached over and slapped my thigh. “Don't get cute with me. You have that silly I'm-a-teenage-girl-on-a-date-with-my-crush grin practically taking up your whole damn face. You've been eye-raping Richie all day. You're not slick." Tara and I giggled.

“Oh, like you haven't spent the entire day checking Rhys out," I couldn't wait to drop that bombshell into Tara's lap. I had noticed within the last few weeks that my two best friends had been spending more time together than normal. Today, watching them interact with each other, sort of confirmed my suspicion that Tara and Rhys might be interested in each other.

Tara blushed and scooted back in her seat. She tried to fight it, but eventually the same "dopey" grin she accused me of having donned her pretty face. “Well, he
is
looking kind of good today, but don't tell him I said that.” We both fell out laughing.

"So, are you going to tell me about what's going on between the two of you?"

Tara cut her eyes at me. "The same way you told me about what went on between you and Richie?"

Touché.

"C'mon, Tara! How long are you going to hold that over my head?"

"For as long as I can get away with it," Tara chuckled. She lowered her voice. "Seriously, though, I can't really say. Rhys and I went to lunch one day when you and Richie weren't available, and I don't know. We got to talking about Tiffany and their separation, and my lack of a love life-"

"A lack of a love life? Tara, when have you ever gone without a fine male specimen for a bed warmer?"

Tara pointed a finger at me and replied, "Sex is not the same thing as love. The first I can get without even trying. Love, on the other hand, is a bit more scarce. I mean, when was the last time you heard me say I was in love with someone, even for a moment?"

Well, she had me there. I nodded. "Understood. Continue."

"Anyway, we had a long, deep, wonderful conversation, and from there, we have just been in each other's corner. Now before you can say anything about my formerly scandalous ways, please remember that I don't do married men. So until those divorce papers are signed, sealed, and delivered, I'm merely going to enjoy my rediscovered friendship with Rhys."

"Umm hmm," I grunted. "You're just going to enjoy the 'friendship' of a man you've been eyeballing all day, huh?"

"Bitch, don't judge me!" Tara and I fell into hysterics.

The guys ambled back into the living room with four Coronas in hand. Rhys made his way over to the couch near Tara. His cell phone began to chirp in his pocket, so while he pulled it out to check the message, Richie walked over towards me and planted a big kiss on my lips before resting himself on the arm of my chair.

Grinning wildly, he asked, “Care to share what's so funny?”

“We were just admiring your booty, baby. It’s so perfect. You could never go to prison,” I teased. Tara laughed even harder, falling over sideways in her seat and holding her belly.

Richie shook his head again. “Say what you want, you love this perfect ass.”

“Damn right I do.” I leaned forward for another kiss, but before Richie’s lips could meet mine, Rhys yelled out to him.

“What?” Richie shouted, startled. Rhys was yelling and cursing so fast, we could barely understand him.

“That fucking bitch! I hate her! All I asked her to do was get the rest of her shit out my house today so I could move the fuck on. I'm going to kill this woman!” Rhys yelled as he jumped up from the sofa and began pacing the floor. He clutched his cell phone in his hands and stared at the screen in disbelief and anger. I had never seen Rhys this angry.

Richie stood up and crossed the room. "Slow down, Rhys! What's going on? Who texted you?"

“Tiffany. She's supposed to be getting her stuff out of the apartment, like we agreed, but she took it upon herself to let that bitch Chloe in my house. Right now, they're both tearing my shit up. All of my shit is getting smashed!"

Rhys' phone chirped again with another text message. He clicked on the screen with a shaky finger. He looked closely and then let out a growl and threw his phone across the room. It struck the wall near the sofa were Tara sat and landed on the seat next to her…in several pieces.

"Whoa! Dude, what the hell?" Richie yelled. Rhys picked up his jacket that lay draped over Richie's coat rack near the entrance into his living room.

"She just sent me a picture. This bitch is going to make me go to jail. I swear to God I’m going to strangle her!”

While Richie tried to calm Rhys down, Tara quickly grabbed Rhys' cell phone. I thought it was completely shattered, but the screen only had two long cracks. The back had also popped off, but the battery remained inside. Tara snapped the back piece back onto the phone, flipped it over, and swiped her finger across the broken screen to reveal the message that had sent Rhys over the edge.

"Oh, hell no!" Tara screamed. I reached out my hand for her to pass me the phone. Tara's pretty, pale face flushed red with anger. I took the phone and looked at the screen.

Despite the cracks in the glass, a vivid picture filled the entire screen. I could see what I thought was Rhys' apartment. But I barely recognized it. His overstuffed couches had been slashed. What looked like garbage from had been thrown all over the room. Stuffing from gutted throw pillows littered nearly every surface, and Rhys' 50 inch flat screen television had been smashed.

I couldn't believe what I saw. No wonder Rhys was so heated. His wife was officially off her rocker.

Tara bolted out of her seat hyped up and ready to kick some ass. I hated to believe Tiffany would do something so spiteful, but then again, she didn’t really have much of a mind of her own. History proved Chloe Childs could make Tiffany do pretty much whatever she wanted just like a puppet on a string. This whole idea had to have been her idea.

“So we're going over there right?” asked Tara. Rhys stood in the center of the room muttering to himself, his eyes tight with anger. I looked over to Richie. His face was also flushed with anger and aggravation. Those feelings were so strong, I could almost see it pulsating from him like steam from hot asphalt. Something told me Richie and I shared the same thought: This was all Chloe’s idea.

I made up my mind. Someone needed to put this woman in her place.

“Tara, take the food out of the oven and turn it off. We'll eat when we get back. First, we need to take care of some business.”

                                          *              *              *              *

              It took a good fifteen minutes for the four of us to pack everything up and drive to Rhys’ apartment. I felt so bad for him. He went from being unbelievably pissed off to disbelieving to downright sad. At the end of the day, Tiffany was still his wife, and he loved her in spite of everything they had gone through. I knew Rhys' nature, his personality. He could fuss and scream all he wanted, but deep down, he was incredibly hurt over his short-lived broken marriage. Not that I blamed him. You can't commit yourself to someone you love and not be affected when things take a turn for the worse.

Text messages kept coming in, which didn't help the situation any. First, they were all directed to Rhys' cell phone. Tiffany kept sending pictures of the damage she and Chloe caused. In one text, she claimed that Rhys got what he deserved because he was a terrible husband. Another text message read, "Fuck separation. I want a divorce." I could hear the unshed tears behind my friend's voice as he read that message out loud, and it broke my heart.

After Rhys' cell phone had been thoroughly harassed, Richie's phone began to go off. This time, it was Chloe. Richie claimed the two of them hadn't spoken since the day I caught them kissing in his kitchen and he told her to go away. I believed him. Chloe, however, must have still been a little hurt by that last encounter because she admitted the idea to trash Rhys' house was her idea. She also said that Richie's house and his car were next, and if he didn't stop seeing me, I would be number three on her hit list.

I would never give her the opportunity.

Sure enough, when we finally pulled up to the apartment, Chloe’s car was parked right next to Tiff’s. A rush of adrenaline mixed with my own simmering anger. She could just never leave people alone.

The four of us got out of Rhys' car: first Rhys, then me and Tara, and last was Richie pulling up the rear. Tara and I donned similar looks: jeans, sneakers and tight ponytails. When we awoke that morning, swear she and I did not plan to dress for battle; we just wanted to be comfortable on a chilly fall day while we hung out. I was thankful, though, that I had worn simple clothes I wasn't afraid to damage. If something was going to happen at Rhys' home, I couldn't afford to worry about ruining a new outfit.

When we got out of the car, Tara stripped down to her under shirt, a blue tank - cold air, be damned.

As we approached the door to Rhys and Tiffany’s home, we heard a commotion coming from upstairs. I knew Rhys dreaded going inside. Who knew what else they had done to his place.

It took Rhys a few tries to get his hands to successfully maneuver his key into the lock on the front door. Once unlocked, he pushed the door open slowly, but didn't step inside. He hesitated at the threshold, but we didn't come that far to stand on his front step. Tara and I gently pushed past him and crept up the stairs to his home with the guys coming up behind us. We didn't get far. What we walked into shocked us into paralysis.

The whole living room was in disarray. The pictures from the text messages were nothing compared to the actual mess before us. Along with the gutted out throw pillows from Rhys' chairs, his overstuffed sofa and love seat were also split open, the insides thrown all over the floor. The original slashes on the couch we saw in the pictures had been deepened, and most of the stuffing from the furniture had been ripped out. The glass dining room table had been shattered, its matching chairs knocked over. Tiffany and Rhys’ large wedding portrait that always rested on the wall in front of the stairs leading into the home was completely destroyed. Someone snapped the heavy frame in half and ripped the picture to shreds. Trash and glass covered the floor; it would be impossible to move around the living room without stepping on something. Rhys’ DVDs lay snapped and bent on the floor.