I throw the blankets off and head to the shower. I should get back into my old habits. Josie could watch Quinn, or the maid on the floor could listen for him if something was wrong. He’s old enough to hang out in the room by himself for an hour and he has a cell phone. A simple text from me saying I’m running wouldn’t make him freak out. Although, waking up and realizing I’m not here would. The last thing I want is for him to be upset or for Katelyn to find out I left him alone. That’s not the image I need her to have of me.
I step into the shower and turn on the water. The cold pounds against my skin; I stand there taking the punishment, for what, I don’t know. Maybe this is my consequence for lusting after a woman who clearly doesn’t want me. Maybe those hints that I’m seeing are just my clouded vision and demented mind at work. She probably throws daggers at me every time I turn around.
I move further under the spray as the water warms up. Lathering up the soap, I scrub my body. I find a bare spot on my arm and think about setting up an appointment for some ink. A vision of Katelyn flashes before my eyes, bare skinned with her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She’s standing there, her hand tracing her hip. There’s ink, a delicate design of lilies spreading across her hip to her back. If the thought of her having one arouses me, I don’t know what I’d do if she ever got one.
I’d pass out if I were allowed to see it.
I’d die if I were allowed to touch it.
When I walk back into the room, Quinn is awake and flipping through the channels. He smiles at me before turning back to the television. He’s going to be eight soon and starting third grade. I can’t believe at one time I used to hold him while he slept. Now, he’s growing so much, I can’t keep up.
“Want to watch cartoons?” Quinn pats the spot next to him on the bed. He winks at me before he starts laughing. I can’t help but laugh. Not at him, but with him. He makes everything better in my life. I take the spot next to him, putting my arm around him. He cozies up against my chest. I rest my head on top of his and watch his morning shows.
Since moving to Beaumont, he’s adjusted so well. I’m sure he misses his tutor, but I like the idea of him getting on the bus every morning and sitting in a classroom. I don’t know what it’s like to make him a lunch and help him put his backpack together. He needs to be with kids his age and not depend on me or the television for entertainment. I like the relationship he’s developed with Noah, who has taken sort of a big brother role with Quinn. If I didn’t know better, I’d say things are looking up for us, except for me in the love department. Seems I’m jonesing after someone that doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
I startle awake at the sound of knocking. My sorry ass saunters to the door. I’m not even sure what time it is, but the sun is blazing through the windows in my front room. I should remember to shut those before I go to bed. The knocking comes again, stronger this time. I rub my head, pulling at my hair. I need a haircut, it’s getting too long.
“I’m coming,” I yell out when the offender knocks again. I undo the chain and deadbolt. You can never be too safe in Los Angeles. I open the door to a nice little package. She’s tall and skinny. Her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail. My eyes drift down, her eyes hiding behind dark glasses. Her lips are painted a dark red and I wonder how long it would take me to get that nasty crap off them. She’s wearing a tight black t-shirt with 4225 West on the front. Lovely, I’ve opened the door for a groupie. Sam is going to have a field day with this one. I continue my once over, her tight jeans accentuating her rocking little figure.
She rests one hand on her hip and sighs. “This is heavy, can you let me in?” I look at her other hand, she’s carrying some type of large contraption and it’s making noise.
“Do I know you?”
“Of course you do,” she says with such confidence that I push the door wider, allowing her to step in. As she walks by, I notice the contraption is actually carrying a baby. This chick brought her kid to my house. I certainly hope I didn’t tell her I’d babysit. I know I was drinking last night, but pretty sure I’d remember offering to change diapers.
I follow her into the living room. She sits down on the couch and leaves her baby in the carry thing on the floor. I stand, across from her, against the wall, still not sure if I know this woman.
“Do you remember me?”
I shake my head.
“No, you probably don’t. You were pretty hammered.”
“I don’t get hammered,” I say in response her to statement. That is the one thing I’ve prided myself on, not drinking myself into a stupor. People make stupid decisions when they’ve been drinking.
“Well, you were that night.”
“What’s your name?” I’m quickly realizing that I’ve made a mistake letting her into my house.