Total Eclipse of the Heart by Zane
Steve rubbed his hands together, like he was anticipating the pizza’s arrival. “Pepperoni-and-sausage; a pizza made for champions.”
“Summer and her team are the champions. You didn’t play jack,” I stated jokingly.
“Oh, picking up women can be hard work,” Brooke said giddily. “Hell, he even tried to pick me up in here.”
Steve seemed ashamed at her comment. “I was only being nice.”
“I was only kidding,” Brooke replied.
Steve glanced down at her T-shirt, which implied how tight her pussy was. “But that T is quite inviting.”
Brooke spread it out over her newly flat tummy. “Only people with dirty minds would interpret it the way that you are.” She paused. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a dirty mind.” She patted my hand. “Damon thought the same thing, so don’t feel bad.”
“Oh, did he?” Bobby asked, implying that I’d done something wrong. “Damon needs to keep his eyes adjusted elsewhere.”
“I realize that he’s married, Bobby,” Brooke said. “You don’t have to throw out not-so-subtle hints. Damon’s virtue is safe with me.”
Too bad, I wanted to blurt out. Brooke was looking sexier on that day than ever before, and it was not only the weight. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, even though she professed to be under a ton of stress. I was so glad that she had finally got rid of that Patrick bastard. He didn’t deserve her.
Brooke looked at me. “You hungry? Those bacon and eggs from the diner wear off yet?”
I chuckled. “Those are history.”
“Good thing you didn’t eat that corned beef, or you’d be back there locked to the toilet right about now.”
Brooke and I laughed at our inside joke as the pizza arrived and we all dug in.
Brooke
June 15, 2008
WE were at the Half Note Lounge in Bowie later that night. Not my idea. I thought that Damon should go home and be with his wife, but he insisted that she wasn’t around and he wanted to make sure that I enjoyed my time off. He’d driven me back to Destiny’s after Armand’s so I could change. I used Destiny’s master bathroom while he showered in the bathroom off the hallway. Damon had some extra clothes in his trunk.
“I’m always prepared, in case an interview opportunity pops up,” he had told me on the way there.
Even though he claimed that he wasn’t feeling all of the attention that he was garnering from Able Minded Dating, it was obviously stroking his ego. He had every right to feel proud of his accomplishments. He’d taken a bad situation and turned it into something positive—and profitable. So many people feel down in the dumps and simply give up on life, instead of fighting and being determined to work things out.
I had a lot of nerve, thinking that way. I was a prime example of someone ready to give up and let her fate ride on the unknown. Sure, I waited tables and was working toward my pharmacy-assistant certificate, but my life still seemed like it was on autopilot. My dysfunctional relationship with Patrick had defined me more than I’d realized. Once I was away from him, the pounds had fallen off. I didn’t feel like eating much and I’d stopped drinking 80 percent of my calories. Anyone who is a soda fanatic can drop at least ten pounds instantly if they give it up. I was living proof of that. Between giving up soda and scaling back to one meal a day, I was down nearly thirty pounds, just like that.
I’d gone past my parents’ place the week before to go shopping in my old closet. My ass was back in clothes that I hadn’t worn since high school. I was never one to be trendy, so my basic wardrobe was still practical and didn’t look out of place. That was a godsend; in no way could I afford to purchase new items. I was hanging on by a thread. I was sick of barely getting by and needed to figure out something—and quick.
“This place is jumping,” Damon said of the restaurant, which featured live bands. “Hell of a band.”
“They’re my favorite. Not that I ever get to see them. I caught them a couple of times a while back.” I gazed at him over the candlelit, white-clothed table. “Thanks for spending so much time with me today.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
Bella Donna, an all-female band, was ripping up the stage with their renditions of all the latest songs, as well as some classics.
“This is the most that I’ve eaten in weeks,” I said, staring down at my chicken salad. “I’m going to gain all of my weight back.”
“You have to eat, Brooke.” Damon cut into his chicken breast. “Like I said, I’m going to help you get your workout routine together. I promise.”
“Never make a promise you can’t keep.”
He eyed me seductively. “I never do.”
I wanted him to fuck me right then and there, on top of the table, in front of the band and the other patrons. I could blame my actions on the alcohol, like that Jamie Foxx song, but I had only had one mojito. Ever since I’d got so drunk in Annapolis, I’d cut back on my alcohol consumption. A wise person solves an issue before it becomes a major problem. I was not going to become an alcoholic, depressed or not. I’d seen the ramifications of that way too often.
We enjoyed the rest of our dinner and listened to the band. I caught Damon looking at me, instead of the band, numerous times. We were playing a dangerous game, but neither of us would back down from it. The couple of times that I went to the ladies’ room throughout the evening, I checked out some of the other men in the club on the sly. The majority of them were not that attractive, and the few who were, were with strikingly beautiful women. Some people deny there is a man shortage, but there really is. After those who are married, gay, or in prison, half of the remaining ones are not trying to settle down, and the other half are either lazy, worthless, or a combination of both.
After the band finished up, Damon and I left. He was quiet the majority of the way back to Destiny’s apartment. It reminded me too much of a date when both parties have to contemplate what is going to happen next. Nothing could happen next with us, though.
The sky exploded on our way there, and the rain came pouring out of the clouds like from an open, high-pressure faucet. As we pulled up to Destiny’s building, Damon suggested, “Maybe you should wait here in the car until the rain slows down.”
“I don’t see any lightning, yet. A little water never hurt anybody,” I joked.
“You don’t want to ruin your dress.” Damon turned the radio to WPGC 95.5; they were playing late-night slow jams. “I’m in no hurry.”
“Damon, can I ask you something?”
He looked at me. “Sure.”
“How can you not be in a hurry when it is close to three in the morning and you’re a married man?”
He refused to respond at first. Instead, he cut the radio up a little bit. “That’s my song,” he said, refering to “He Is” by Heather Headley.
“That’s usually a girlie song.” I laughed. “That’s the kind of man we’re all searching for.”
“And the kind of man that I’m trying to be.” A sad expression overtook his face. “Brooke, my wife and I haven’t been the same since the accident. It’s so strange. Here you are, a complete stranger to me before that crazy-ass day, and you show more appreciation for my actions than my own wife.”
“I’m sure that this has been hard on her.”
“It’s been hard on me! I’m the one who lost something!”
I reached over and caressed his cheek. “Actually, I think you gained something.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I could see a tear forming in his eye, even with the limited lighting from the streetlamp and the windshield wipers swaying back and forth.
I took off my seat belt and moved closer to him, then kissed him on the side of the eye where I saw the tear.
“You can let it out, Damon. No one expects you to be a statue. You went through something horrible, something most of us can never imagine. Yet, you saw the beauty in it and decided to make a difference in the lives of others.”
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“I see the beauty in you,” he said. I clamped my eyes shut and allowed his words to saturate my skin and drill into my heart. “Even if you can’t see it, I see it. I know that you worry about your weight, but being larger only means that there is more of you to love.”
In the past, I’d been the queen of talking junk about women who got involved with married men. I couldn’t comprehend the thought process and made them all out to be pieces of trash or fucking fools. How could they allow themselves to even be placed in that situation? That was what the old me used to say. Yet, there I was, with my head resting on Damon’s shoulder, craving to feel his dick inside me, so hard and so deep that he might knock a hole in the bottom of my pussy.
“I care about you, Brooke.”
Was he reading my thoughts!
“And I believe that you care about me.”
I couldn’t force myself to look at him when I said, “I do care, but I can’t sleep with a married man, Damon. As much as I want to at this very moment, I can’t.”
“I don’t expect you to, nor would I disrespect you like that.” He took my hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed my fingertips. “Unless I can be the man that you need, unless I can come to you correctly, we can never go there.”
“But you do want me, don’t you?”
“More than any words could possibly express. My marriage is hanging on by a thread. I realize that men say that all the time, but, in my case, it’s true. We were having issues, even before I lost my arm.”
“What kind of issues?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I already told you that she was taking birth control behind my back.”
I sat up and stared at him; the pain was visible all over his face.
“I tried to tell myself that I could get over that deception, tried to assure Carleigh that it was okay, but I’ve been fooling myself. It still bothers me.” He kissed me lightly on the forehead, then gazed into my eyes. “How could she do such a thing? Deprive me of the right to have children, for so long?”
“I can’t answer that because I could never do that. Not to you, or anyone else.”
Then it happened. It was not intentional. I swear.
I leaned in and kissed Damon on the lips. Not the kind of friendly kiss that I might give an old classmate that I hadn’t seen in years. The kind of kiss that I’d imagined a hundred times in my fantasies about him. He didn’t hesitate to return my affections, despite everything that both of us had just said about not going there.
I needed it. I needed to feel that closeness to him, if only for a moment. When that moment was over, I silently got out of the car and ran for the entrance to the building without looking back at him. It would have been too painful; knowing that I wanted him to make love to me. It would have been too wrong; to allow it to actually happen.
When I got up to Destiny’s apartment, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom, then walked to the window in my bedroom. Damon’s car was still sitting there, the wipers going back and forth. The rain had slowed a little, but the pulsations of my heart were so loud that I could hear them in my eardrums.
I saw the light from his cell phone as he started dialing. I assumed that he was calling Carleigh, to tell her that he was on his way home. Instead, my cell starting ringing seconds later. I answered, but said nothing.
“Brooke, I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to feel bad about. I kissed you.”
“But I wanted it.”
“Both of us wanted it.”
“I can’t lose your friendship,” he pleaded.
I sat down on the bed, in utter confusion. “I’ll always be your friend. But we can never be anything more.”
“I understand that.” He paused briefly. “I’m going to go now. You try to get some rest.”
“I’m so tired that I’ll probably pass out before my head hits the pillow.” That was a damn lie. I already knew that I would be up until sunrise thinking about what had happened. “You drive safely.”
“I will. Can I call you tomorrow?”
I should have said that he could not, but I replied, “Sure.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
Playing with fire! “Okay. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around noon.”
“Okay, I’ll be ready,” I heard myself saying.
Damon hung up and I laid my head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. I heard his car pulling off from the curb and sucked in a deep breath. Destiny was not home so my music wouldn’t disturb her. I spun the dial on my iPod and put “He Is” on repeat. Then I started my fantasy all over again.
Damon
June 15, 2008
I WAS ten minutes early getting back to Brooke that Sunday, having told Carleigh that I had some business to attend to. She was not a happy camper. After asking me a dozen questions about why I came in so late, she had finally accepted that I was with Bobby at his parents’ anniversary party. I told her that everyone had got toasted, except for me, and that Bobby’s mother had insisted that he sleep it off a little before we got back on the road. Carleigh asked why I couldn’t have driven, and I told her that I was too tired from sitting out in the heat at Summer’s game earlier.
Even with one arm, I was in incredible shape and I could tell that Carleigh was skeptical. I was upset for various reasons. For one, she had been hanging out with that Arnold character a lot, and I was wondering if she was indeed fucking him. Second, I wanted to make love to Brooke, and that was not a good thought for a married man to have. But I could not stay away from her. I couldn’t.
When I rang Destiny’s buzzer, Brooke said, “Come on up,” then buzzed the door open. The door to the apartment was open when I got off the elevator on the third floor. I rapped lightly on the door. “Come in,” she said from someplace down the hallway. “I’ll be right out.”
I went in and sat down on the sofa. Having been there the day before to get dressed, I couldn’t help but feel like we were somehow setting up house in someone else’s place. Yet, my natural reaction was to reach for the remote and turn the television on to ESPN. A documentary was on about athletes who were drug addicts. They always had great subject matter. One time, I was watching one about professional ballers who had fathered children outside their marriages. The host was talking about how, even though Magic Johnson had come out nearly a generation earlier and confessed to contracting HIV by sleeping with numerous women, men were still playing Russian roulette with their lives and the lives of their wives. I mean, after all, how can all of them be fathering children if they were using protection? There may a slipup here or there, but, for the most part, they are running around screwing whoever, whenever.
“I’m ready,” Brooke said, emerging from the back wearing a pair of black slacks and a white blouse. “I didn’t know what to put on so I hope that I’m dressed okay.”
I stood up. I had on black slacks and a white shirt. “If you’re not, then I’m not either.”
She giggled. “So, where are we off to?”
“Wherever you want to go.” I shrugged. “I really just wanted to see you today.” There it was. The tension. “Listen, about last night?”
“I think we should leave that alone.” Brooke reached for her purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick. “We had a moment of weakness, but it’s cool. I value our friendship and don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.”
As I watched her put on her lipstick, I replied, “I agree. Listen, have you ever been to the wax museum?”
“Wow, it must be karma.” Brooke blushed. “Before you called me yesterday, I told Destiny that I was going to look up the information for Madame Tussauds and go check it out.”
“Then it sounds like a plan.”
I followed Brooke out of the door of the apartment, and my eyes fell
We arrived at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum at the corner of Tenth and F streets, NW, a little after one. Since it was a Sunday, a lot of the huge churches downtown had people flooding out of them, and it took a minute to find a parking space. After all the madness, we found a lot right across the street that neither of us had spotted at first amid all the confusion.
Once inside, things were much calmer. It was not that crowded at all.
“I wonder why more people don’t take advantage of the local attractions,” I commented to Brooke.
“I can’t talk. I’m definitely one of the guilty ones.” She was staring at a wax figure of George Washington. “For me, it’s a schedule thing, coupled with a lack-of-money thing. Even though the admission is twenty dollars, that’s still a little steep for me, compared to putting food in my stomach.”
Brooke always made it a point to say how poor she was. I noticed that she never used to talk about that when she was with Patrick. Since he was obviously loaded, I guess she felt more secure about her spending then. Even though she didn’t strike me as the type to mooch off him, at least she had a lifeline back then.
“You know, my websites are taking off so much that I could really use an assistant. You think you might be able to help me?”
Brooke paused beside the Denzel Washington figure and stared up at me. “I don’t need your pity, Damon.”
“Pity? It’s not pity, Brooke.” I pulled out my digital camera and waved for her to move in closer to Denzel. “Say Denzel!”
Brooke looked great for the photo, but she didn’t seem happy about my job offer.
“Look, tons of people are joining the sites, and even though Able Minded Dating kind of runs itself, the Last Good Men site still has to have someone to approve the profiles and all that jazz. Plus, a lot of corporations want to place ads now, and it’s getting overwhelming.”
“Then hire someone who knows how to run a website. The only thing that I know about the internet is that I go on it. I check out gossip sites, eBay, even though I can’t afford anything, and the latest important news.”