Unknown, p.3
Unknown, page 3
“Stop it. There is no ‘dead relative’ excuse that guys come up with.” I got ready to shake my head and stopped. “Wait. Right? There isn’t a ‘dead relative’ excuse?”
“Hey, I’m a man and I’m telling you that some of us are garbage. They will tell a woman anything to get their way.”
I chewed on the end of my pen.
“Didn’t he move in that day?” my brother asked.
“Yeah. He said he was depressed and thinking about death and—”
My brother snorted.
“You think he lied about his aunt?”
“I don’t know. All I’m saying is that when you first met him...in a club, by the way—”
“I know. I know. Meeting a guy in a club doesn’t usually work.”
“It never does. When a guy is in a club, he’s trying to have sex. He’s not thinking, ‘Oh, where art my queen? Where art thou woman I will love forever?’”
I laughed even though I was becoming sick to my stomach.
My brother continued, “Then, Tyson meets you and is telling you he loves you in two weeks. Not long after, he’s trying to move in with you. Thank God you held out and stood your ground. It only took him saying someone died to get his lazy ass in there.”
Rob wasn’t a fan of Tyson. He’d met him once and had concluded that he was a dog. He didn’t need any evidence of it. Apparently, Rob was some sort of douchebag whisperer—he could sniff them out and see the bullshit in their eyes.
And upon meeting Tyson, Rob’s only response was, “Drop him.”
If I kept it real with myself, Rob’s dislike of Tyson was the beginning of our downfall. If my family didn’t like the guy I was with, was he really the man I wanted to be with? And if I was being even more truthful, Tyson’s best friend Logan was the other reason I’d started feeling unsatisfied.
That was where the guilt really came in.
One should never lust after their boyfriend’s best friend.
Don’t even think about Logan.
Still in bed with my eyes closed, I caught Tyson’s footsteps as he must’ve walked away. He sounded like he was in the closet again.
Why is he being so weird? What the hell is he writing?
It could’ve been a novel. But why not say something? I wouldn’t have forced him to show it to me, until he was ready or whatever.
This is so weird.
Low sounds of paper unraveling and scribbling sounded in the room. At least ten minutes passed. And then a few thumps, the closing of the closet, and footsteps going away.
He whistled some happy tune. His footsteps hammered on. The bathroom door screeched open and then closed.
I opened my eyes.
Five minutes later the shower went on and I got up from bed.
What is he doing in the closet every morning? Forget it. I’m finding out today.
The shower continued to groan from the bathroom. My phone vibrated on the end table. I ignored it, rose from the bed, and walked over to the closet.
I opened the door and looked inside. The only thing that appeared disturbed was Tyson’s shoe boxes. He was a Sneaker Head and had a big collection, packing my closet.
Keep it real, Mia. You really want to break up with Tyson to get your closet space back.
Boxes took up every inch of the little walk-in closet. There must’ve been about thirty boxes of sneakers, stacked here and there, on the floors and shelves. There were more in my kitchen pantry and then ten more boxes piled by my bookshelf in the living room. There were all types of Air Jordans—one pair had been signed by the legend himself. Tyson had 1989 Reebok Pumps, a pair of Nike Cortez in the first orange box which was apparently important. There were several pre-1986 Air Force Ones. And it went on and on—lace-less Pumas and a pair of Adidas with a person’s face on the tongue, Converse Chuck Taylors and even some Yeezys designed by rapper Kanye West, which he actually hated, but kept them because they could make him a profit one day.
How do you not have your living situation handled, but have over fifty pairs of sneakers, probably each worth a thousand or more?
And my small one-bedroom apartment was already packed with my stuff. My cooler and freezer bulged with a variety of fillings, frostings, and layers, precisely labeled for certain events.
But I couldn’t put my mind on Too Sweet. All I could do was stand in the closet and wonder what the hell Tyson did in it every morning.
That’s it. I’m going to check. I don’t care.
I pushed up a few of the boxes’ tops and peered inside. For the past few weeks, I’d been playing James Bond and trying to figure out where he hid the notebook or whatever he wrote on. I had to be quick. He took short showers. I checked several boxes in the middle, since I’d already gone through the ones on the top. There was nothing but sneakers.
This time, I tried a different strategy. I checked the boxes closest to the corner in the far back. One had no sneakers, but four notebooks lay inside.
This is it. Finally.
I leaned outside of the closet and confirmed the shower was still on, and then returned to the notebooks. There were pages and pages filled with Tyson’s handwriting. I figured he’d been writing something, but had no idea what.
Why would he want to hide that he’s writing?
My nerves frazzled as I opened one of the notebooks.
Here goes nothing.
And then I began to read the first page.
July 4th
I don’t know when the games started.
I just know I can’t stop.
Ashley lets me do anything to her. At this point, I’m wondering if I can break her...
My heart slammed against my chest. My stomach twisted in grief. It was like some big person had punched me in my gut and then slapped me.
My best fucking friend Ashley?
I dropped the notebook. The noise of the shower stopped as he returned to whistling.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I rushed to pick up the notebook, placed it back in the box, checked to make sure everything looked normal, and closed the closet. I thought about what I’d just read.
“Ashley lets me do anything to her. At this point, I’m wondering if I can break her.”
I had to breathe in and out to stop the dizzying effect. There was no fucking way he was talking about my friend. While I have only known her for a year or so, I never got the feeling that she would be the backstabbing, disrespectful type.
What the hell is going on?
My phone buzzed. I walked over and checked the screen. Logan’s name appeared.
I answered, “Hello.”
Logan’s deep sensual voice rode the line. “Are you dressed?”
I quirked my eyebrows. “What?”
“Are you dressed yet?”
For a minute, I was lost, and then I realized the ninth novel in the Kingmaker series was coming out today.
Logan and I had been waiting for this for months. We talked about it obsessively, reread the series together, and forced our friends to binge-watch the first three TV seasons one weekend. It had been a fabulous three days of food, alcohol, and Kingmaker.
Now, the final book was coming out and there would be crowds of people everywhere trying to grab the book.
Logan’s voice held disappointment. “You’re not dressed?”
“No, I—”
“Really?”
“Logan, it’s. . .” I checked my phone’s time. “It’s freaking six in the morning. Are you serious?”
“The bookstore opens at eight.”
“Which means we have two hours.”
“Two hours to stand in line, if you don’t get dressed.” He chuckled. “I’m outside, by the way.”
He is insane.
This morning was getting crazier and crazier. At least Logan could brighten up my mood.
I shook my head. “You’re outside of my place at six in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“You’re crazy.” I blew out a long breath. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
“If I’m down there in five that means I’m coming to whip your ass.”
He chuckled. “Okay. We’ll make it ten. Oh, and don’t get anything to eat. I have coffee and bagels for you in the car. Your favorite—sesame lathered in cream cheese with a blonde roast large.”
I smiled. “You’re good.”
Logan’s tone turned to wicked. “That’s why you love me, baby.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re also very humble.”
“Of course. There’s no arrogance in these perfect god-like bones.”
I was about to laugh, Tyson walked out of the bathroom in a towel. Water dripped all over his muscles.
That had been another reason why I’d been dragging myself with breaking up. Tyson was not bad to look at. Not at all.
But after reading the notebook, I’d confirmed why I’d been feeling icky around him. He’d been doing something with Ashley.
Unless, this is an old notebook? It could be another Ashley from his past. Please, let it be that.
Tyson raised his eyebrows and whispered, “You okay?”
And on the phone, Logan caught my attention too. “Mia, are you still there?”
Still holding the phone, I nodded at Tyson and gave my back to him as I spoke into the phone, “Yeah, Logan. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
Behind me, I heard a sound of annoyance come from Tyson.
My boyfriend wasn’t a fan of my friendship with Logan. Thankfully, Tyson never told me to stop being cool with Logan, he just made snide comments and noises of annoyance here and there. Tyson was sure that Logan was using my love of the Kingmaker series to spend time with me. I thought it was absurd. First of all, Logan had no problem with finding women to spend time with. If anything, he needed help keeping all the hordes of women away.
Logan’s sexy voice filled the line. “And Mia?”
“Yes?”
“Wear sneakers,” Logan said.
“Why?”
“Because we may have to leap over kids and knock a few out of the way.”
Even with the fucked-up mood I was in and this new possible discovery of Tyson cheating, I couldn’t help but relish in Logan’s attention. He was the hottest guy I’d known. Women fell over him wherever we went. And he paid them no mind, giving me all his focus when we hung out.
How many women had Logan calling them in the morning and hassling them about the Kingmaker?
I sighed. “We’re not barreling through kids to get a book, Logan.”
“Eh, sometimes the bookstores sell out before the lines finish. If we don’t get there in time, we may miss it.”
“Would you relax?”
“I love kids, but if they get in between Mulligan and me, I’m punching a few of them.”
“Bye, crazy.”
“Bye, Mia.”
He hung up and I stood there holding the phone and savoring the way Logan said my name. Why did he have to say it that way? Like he was rubbing his cock when he spoke it. Like he moaned my name late at night while he jacked himself off to thoughts of me.
Logan is the other problem. Damn it. There were so many reasons why Tyson and I were never going to work. I knew it from the beginning and kept fighting against it. Why? So stupid.
Well, I wouldn’t be stupid anymore.
Today would be the first day of getting it together.
And what will I do about Logan?
Again, one should never lust after their boyfriend’s best friend. But Logan had been a major player in all my steamy, secret dreams. A man I crushed on so badly at times I thought there was something wrong with me. A man who kept my panties wet whenever he was around. A man who was my boyfriend’s best friend and therefore completely off-limits.
Logan dripped sensuality and I didn’t think any woman was immune to him.
Here I am worried about Tyson messing around with my friend, and I’ve been masturbating to his friend for the past months. How stupid is this whole situation?
But, I had no more time to think about any of it.
Time to break up with him.
3
A Bad Gut Feeling
Mia
My boyfriend—the current problem and possible cheater—Tyson stood directly behind me. “So, Logan and you are doing something?”
I faced him. “We’re going to get the new Kingmaker book.”
“Hmmm.” Frowning, he pulled me close to him and wrapped his huge arms around me.
It was the most awkward hug of my life.
“Good morning.” he kissed my forehead.
Tensing, I kept my arms to the side and didn’t hug him back.
“What’s wrong?” He leaned a way and stared at me.
I left his arms. “We have to talk.”
“About what?”
“About us. I’ve been thinking that—”
“Not right now, Mia.” He kept that neutral mask on his face that he’d been wearing more and more each day. “We can talk tonight, but right now don’t you think you should get to Logan?”
“Yes, but—”
“And I just had a bad morning.”
“Why?”
“I had a nightmare about my aunt. She was dying in my arms.” He rubbed his eye as if a tear was threatening to come out. “I’m just feeling so depressed right now.”
I tapped my phone and searched his eyes for any possible bullshit.
Is this for real or not? What if he really is mourning? Then, what type of person would I be?
If he really was battling depression, the last thing I wanted to do was tell him he was faking it. I’d battled anxiety for years and still dealt with it every now and then. Depression was real and crushing. It came swift like death, darkening the soul and crumbling the heart.
He whispered, “I woke up wondering...why are we even on this planet to begin with?”
I said the only thing that came to my head. “To love and...live.”
“But why?” His phone rang. “Hold on.”
He walked over to grab his phone, frowned at the screen, and turned the ringer off.
“Who was that?” I asked.
He looked surprised. Usually, I never inquired about who called him.
My brother had a motto:
“If you think you must investigate a guy’s phone, then break up with him. It doesn’t matter, if he’s cheating or not. You don’t trust him.”
“It wasn’t anyone.” Tyson shrugged those muscular shoulders. “It was a wrong number.”
The phone loudly vibrated as the person called back.
Is that Ashley?
I gestured to his phone. “Maybe you should tell the person it’s a wrong number.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m going to do.” Annoyed, he walked out of the bedroom and answered the phone in the hallway.
I leaned in, listening. He must’ve been wise to that because his footsteps sounded farther away, and then I heard the front door open and close.
We’re done. He’s clearly on some bullshit, and I’m not into him anymore anyway. What the hell am I doing? Get some balls and end this!
I knew that no matter what, we were breaking up today. I didn’t care if his mama and grandma died right in front of him this afternoon, he had to get out of my place and mourn somewhere else.
Something was happening around me, something wrong, something that made me feel slimy just from being around him. My gut said it, and it was time to stop second guessing that sensation moving inside of me.
“Women think they are bi-polar and shit.” My brother Rob blew out cigarette smoke. “They go to the doctor and check to see if they need medication. But over half the time, they just need to get rid of that asshole in their house.”
My gut was right, and my brother too.
Sighing, I walked back to the closet. Tyson and I were done, but I still wanted to read those freaking notebooks.
I’m nosy and I have a right to know. Is it my girl Ashley or some other female with the same name?
Too bad Logan waited outside for me to go to the bookstore. I decided to take the notebooks with me instead of trying to quickly read them while Tyson was outside, talking to Miss Wrong Number.
James Bond had nothing on me. Like a crazy person, I grabbed my largest handbag, stuffed the notebooks in it, picked out some clothes for today, and took it all in the bathroom to shower.
In the shower, I thought about those lines that I’d read in Tyson’s journal.
July 4th
I don’t know when the games stared. I just know I can’t stop. Ashley lets me do anything to her. At this point, I’m wondering if I can break her.
We’d all hung out last July 4th almost two and half months ago. It was only Logan, Ashley, Tyson, and me.
Tyson and I had just begun dating, but weren’t exclusive yet.
Logan and Ashley never really messed around. I’d thought they’d hit if off the night we all met in the bar, but Ashley told me Logan had just dropped her off at her place and said nothing else. I was shocked they didn’t hook up. Apparently, the only time Ashley even talked to Logan was when he came around us.
They never exchanged phone numbers.
Regardless, we lounged on Logan’s yacht that July fourth, enjoying the water. Logan grilled steaks, potatoes, and veggies.
Ashley and I swam. Tyson spent the day gazing at us.
I remembered there was a moment where Logan and Tyson argued about something, but I was so drunk I didn’t know what it was over. Later, I’d grabbed them both by the hands because the fireworks were starting.
By then, it was just Logan, Tyson, and me. Ashley had taken a nap in one of the yacht’s cabins. With three glasses of champagne in our hands, we’d toasted and watched the fireworks blaze and paint the sky.
What else happened that July 4th?
I scanned my mind for more of that night.
Tyson got bored with the fireworks and went to check on Ashley.
Logan and I ended up watching the rest of the show, drunkenly bringing up memories of our craziest July 4th’s and the embarrassing things we’d done.
