“Gathering, whatever the hell you want to call it. I won’t be able to come get you. I’m hoping to be able to get a weekend off when I’m out there, but I doubt it. They have my schedule jam-packed.”
Feeling a little lighter knowing I don’t have to see Tucker, I say, “Well, that’s exciting though. What a good opportunity for you.”
“Yeah, should be making more money too.”
I nod awkwardly even though he can’t see me. “Okay, well, safe trip out there.”
“Hey, before you hang up on me, do you think I can call when I’m there, just to talk?” The way his voice turns into this soft-spoken, broken man rips me apart. “It’s going to be lonely as fuck. It would be nice to hear a familiar voice.”
Say no. Just say no. Tell him I’m good with the amount of phone calls I receive and hang up.
But I can’t do that.
For so many years, our lives were intertwined with one another. He’ll always be my first love. He’ll always be the man I gave my virginity to. He’ll always be the one I whispered painful secrets to when verbalizing about my shitty home life. He’ll always be the baby’s father, even though our baby didn’t live. Tucker will never completely disappear from my life.
Hating myself, I say, “Sure. Call me when you’re lonely.”
Go ahead, start throwing the pitchforks, tell me I’m the worst; curse me out for not being strong enough to let go of the man who both consumed me and broke me for so many years. It’s okay to hate me, because I hate me too. Maybe we should start an I Hate Sadie Facebook group. Anyone want to be admin?
“Thanks, Sadie,” he says into the phone. “Shit, I’m going to miss this whole summer with our friends. You’re going to have to give me the play-by-play. Let me know if Kiera ever dates someone from CrossFit.”
“Not going to happen.” I chuckle.
“Yeah, I don’t think so either. And hey, give Emma a hand every once in a while. That girl needs a break.”
“I will. Have fun in Pittsburgh. I’ll talk to you later.”
“See ya, beautiful.”
I hang up just as my chest seizes on me.
Beautiful, said in that velvety voice of his. Memories of him holding me in his truck, whispering into my ear, telling me everything was going to be okay, start flooding my brain, causing my stomach to—
Bloop.
Message request. On my computer?
What?
I click on the message button and see a request from Andrew. And just like that, he quiets those painful memories. He must have gotten off work early.
Andrew: I found you! Facebook friend request being processed now. I’m going to creep the fuck out of your profile. Get ready to see some photos from 2013 I liked. If this is not the Sadie Montgomery with the best-prepped plate on earth, then please ignore this message and friend request. If you don’t know what prepped plate means, then you aren’t the Sadie I’m looking for, and I would appreciate it if you forget this personal encounter ever happened. Thank you.
A laugh pops out of my mouth as I type him back.
Sadie: Best-prepped plate at your service. Glad you were brave enough to search me out on Facebook. That’s a big step, you know, becoming Facebook friends. Are you ready for it?
Andrew: My stalking/clicking fingers are ready. Accept my friend request already so I can start snooping on you.
Too bad for Andrew, my Facebook page is bleak and boring. I don’t let people tag me in pictures because of my previous major at Cornell, and I never turned off that feature. There will probably be about five pictures for him to look at; all profile pics. They’re anything but exciting. Just simple selfies. At the top, I see the friend request button lit up, so I accept his request and then type him back.
Sadie: Not much to snoop, sorry.
He takes a minute to respond, but I smile when he does.
Andrew: Well feed my dick through a meat grinder, that’s shit. You have nothing discriminating on your profile at all.
Quickly I scan through his profile and can’t help but smile at his many ridiculous pictures, mostly of him acting silly and over the top. I wouldn’t expect anything less.
Sadie: And yet, you have a gold mine of pictures for me to use against you.
Andrew: Yeah, I’m apparently not as smart as you. But hey, you have to live a little. I have to admit, this picture of you in your bikini . . . I’m shocked. I thought you were a closet whore, not a public one.
Of course he would fixate on that picture. I only posted it because I lost a bet to Tucker, who luckily, doesn’t believe in Facebook.
Sadie: Public whore would be bikini and duck lips combined together. That’s just a picture of a girl who lost a bet.
Andrew: That makes better sense. I see that it also says you’re in a complicated relationship with Smilly. Care to explain that? Are there lesbian tendencies in your blood I need to be aware of?
Sadie: LOL, yes, Smilly and I are promised to each other. Sorry, you’re just a boy toy for now.
Andrew: Why am I okay with this?
Sadie: Because you’re a man, and all men are perverts when it comes to hearing about girl-on-girl action.
Andrew: Wait, so does this mean you really do have lesbian tendencies?
Sadie: NO! God, you’re annoying.
Andrew: You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean. Annoying is harsh, but saying something like, God, I want your dick in my mouth, now that’s being truthful.
Sadie: Short on your douche quota?
Andrew: Just a skootch.
Sadie: Glad I can help you make it.
Andrew: I knew there was a reason I kept you around. So what are you doing tonight? Hanging out with Smilly, maybe watching Tron?
Sadie: I’m on my own. She’s going out with Saddlemire on a date tonight. She babysits twins and got a pay raise so they’re celebrating by getting wasted and playing shuffleboard at the Legion.
Andrew: Whoa, do they know how to party or ahfjasfnsdfnam asfna smfn sjhenf
Huh?
Andrew: oh my akdfnao nafine a ahhh
Andrew: fuck, fufahendoa
Andrew: my hair, hafajdf help
What the hell is going on? Hoping whatever is happening to him is a joke, I reach for my phone and dial his number. He doesn’t even say hello when he answers, he just starts screaming into the phone.
“Holy fucking . . . Fuck, get away from me.” His voice sounds higher than normal as if someone is consistently yanking on his balls. Who is he talking to?
“Andrew, what is going on?” Suddenly I’m panicking.
He doesn’t answer, instead there is fumbling of the phone, more curse words, and then a slam of what sounds like a door. My heart begins to race as I wait patiently to hear from him. Is he being robbed? Who else could he be talking to? Did his basketball roommates come home early? Are they trying to take advantage of him with their European ways and heavy accents?
“Andrew? Are you there? Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Sadie?” His voice is horse, desperate, and scared. “My life flashed before my eyes.”
“What is going on, Andrew?”
“He’s still out there, I can hear him trying to get in my door.”
“I swear to God, if you’re joking—”
“I’m not joking. Sadie, I was just attacked.”
“By who?” I’m sitting on the edge of my seat now, my computer folded and on the table.
“A bat,” he whispers in dismay.
A bat?
He says it with such fear in his voice that I can’t do anything else but laugh, and laugh hard.
“What’s so fucking funny? He was trying to wing-clip me with his rabies-infested black flappers.”
“You were attacked by a bat?” I continue to laugh.
“Yes! What’s so goddamn funny? You realize the probability of them carrying some life-threatening disease, don’t you?” Andrew pauses for a second and then says, “He had red in his eyes, Sadie. What does t
hat even mean? What kind of devil bird has red in his eyes?”
“Bats aren’t birds, they’re mammals.”
He sighs heavily into the phone. “I fucking know that. Bats are the only mammals capable of sustained flight. I was being dramatic.”
“Oh, how kind of you, laying the dramatics on me.”
Ignoring me, he continues, “I’m seriously freaked the fuck out. Where did it come from and where the fuck did it go just now?”
“Where are you?”
“In my room. It tried to dive-bomb me twice, but I ducked under my computer and tried to type out my SOS to you. He gave me one opening by flying into the hallway and that’s when I slammed my door shut. To hell if I would let that sadistic bastard fuck with my hair anymore.”
Hands down, this has to be the most absurd conversation I’ve ever had.
“I can’t take you right now.”
“Sadie, I’m serious. He has to be out there still. There is no way he isn’t. I mean, where would he go? I can’t possibly fucking sleep tonight knowing he’s out there. Maybe I should go to Jimmy’s.”
“Oh my God, do not go to your brother’s. I’ll come over to help you.”
“You’re going to save me?”
“No, I’m going to help you find the spot where your balls fell off. You seem to have lost them.”
I hang up the phone without saying goodbye, go into the hall closet and pull out Smilly’s tennis racket that she uses for drunk tennis—rather than actual tennis—and put on my shoes. Looks like I have some bat hunting to do.
***
I don’t even bother knocking on the door. I help myself into his house and walk up to his room. Everything is dark beside a small sliver of light peeking through his bedroom door. I flip on some lights and give the place a good once-over, checking the ceilings and corners. There is nothing. Although, from the time it took me to get here, the bat could be anywhere by now.
Just to be polite, I knock on his door and say, “Hello? Are you still alive, Andrew, or have you turned into Dracula yet?”
“Not funny,” he calls from his bedroom. “Don’t hang out there where the beast can get you.”
I snort from the seriousness in his voice and open his bedroom door to find him tucked in the corner with a towel draped over his head, cinched with his hands right under his chin.
There is no use. I start laughing again. I wish I could show a little sympathy, but we’re talking about a grown man—a highly intelligent grown man—terrified of a bat that is probably no bigger than his hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
His brows are pinched together in irritation. “Protecting my hair. What does it look like? Bats just fucking love getting tangled in people’s hair, and to hell if I will fall victim to such violence.”
“You barely have any hair, so that would never happen.”
“I have just enough hair for the bat to lay his larva in my follicles.”
“I don’t even know if that’s a thing.”
“Will you just get in here and shut the damn door before the beast decides to go for round two?”
Shaking my head, laughter still on the tip of my tongue, I do as he asks and then turn to him. “This is knocking a lot of points off your man card.”
“I’m aware and okay with it.” He eyes my tennis racket. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to swat at the bat, try to knock it out. A tennis racket is one of the best ways to do that.”
“You’re just going to go out there and start swinging, as if you were trying to squash mega-fly with a giant fly swatter?” He sits a little taller now, interested in my plan.
“That pretty much sums it up.” I place my keys, phone, and wallet on his nightstand and then open his bedroom door again. I give the landing of the second floor a look around but don’t see anything, so I start to venture out.
“Wait, where are you going?” he asks. He sounds so desperate.
“I don’t see it around here. I’m going to check the downstairs.”
Scooting up behind me, towel still firmly over his head, he says, “Don’t fucking leave me here alone; that’s what the bat wants to happen, to split us up and then go in for the kill.”
“Yes, because I’ve heard there’s been an influx on killer bats recently.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he deadpans, so certain.
Seriously, he’s going to have to do something incredibly manly in order to make up for tonight. I like the kid, but seeing this side of him is almost too comical.
Together—Andrew, towering over me, looking ridiculous with his head covered in a towel—we start scouring the house. His steps follow in line with mine, as if we’re performing some kind of musical act. All we need is a jazzy little number and we’d put on one hell of a show. Our unison is on point.
“Wait.” I halt quickly, causing him to bump into my back. I place my hand at my ear and say, “Do you hear that?”
“What? Hear what?” He starts ducking near my head, practically crawling on my back. Unbelievable.
“That sound, what is it?”
“I don’t hear anything?” Hysteria in his voice. “Is the bat screeching?”
“Oh, I know what it is.” I turn my head and look him in the eye. “It’s the sound of your balls clinking around on the floor, looking for a new owner.”
His once concerned face turns flat. “Real funny, Sadie. Make fun of the poor, terrified guy. I’m sure there are things you’re scared of. Do you think I would rub your face in it? No.” He pauses and then smiles at me. “I would try to fuck you senseless until you forgot.”
I step back and look him up and down. “You’re an anomaly, you know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replies smugly.
Huffing, I march around the rest of his house, searching for the killer bat as he sticks to me like glue, never letting a few inches separate us.
***
I drop the tennis racket on his bedroom floor before sitting on his desk where I cross my legs at my ankles. Grilling him, I ask, “Care to explain to me why you would go to such elaborate lengths to get me here when you could have easily just asked me to come over?”
“What are you talking about?” For some reason, he takes his shirt off and tosses it into his hamper. His abs flex as he stretches from side to side, his boxer briefs clinging to his waist, peeking just past his shorts. What is he up to?
“You lied about the bat. We’ve looked everywhere, and it’s nowhere in this house.”
“Maybe it flew out a window,” he offers, now flopping on his bed where he places his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing beneath him. The man who was only a few seconds ago clenching a towel to his head, terrified out of his life, is now the picture of utter calm. How is that even possible?
“You don’t have any open windows.”
“Well, I’m not an idiot,” he says, his voice an octave lower from earlier in the night. “I don’t want some drunk psycho killer breaking in and stealing my computers.”
“Okay, so then you made it all up. There was no bat to begin with.”
He shakes his head, his chest flexing now. Is he doing that on purpose? If he is, it’s working because all I want to do is lick his chest from belly button to pecs. “No way did I make up that rabid beast. He must have gone up to the attic through the crack under the door. It’s the only explanation. Why do you think I just stuffed my towel in that crack?”
“Can bats get through small spaces like that?”
“Yeah. When I was tucked away in the corner, I read up on bats to see what I was dealing with and they can squeeze through tiny spaces. I bet that fucker is floating around in the attic, waiting to strike again.”
“I don’t know. Still seems like you made him up to get me here.”
“Please,” he scoffs. “If I wanted to get you here, I would not have emasculated myself like that.”
“Oh yeah, what would you
have done instead?”
“To get you over here? Well, besides ask nicely, if you needed more coaxing, I would have offered a good spooning while watching whatever movie you wanted to watch. Maybe a late-night ice cream run. Or a chance to lie out on the grass with you and gaze at the stars. You know, something simple, but sexy and sweet.”
My heart rate starts to pick up.
“No dick pics?”
He laughs deeply. “No, I learned my lesson about pictures of my dick. I wouldn’t do that again. Plus, you’re not a dick-pic kind of girl. You deserve respect; you deserve to have men open doors for you, to offer you their jacket when you’re cold.”
The seriousness in his voice pulls me toward him. I hop off the desk and kick off my shoes. Without even giving it a second thought, I straddle him on the bed, settling myself on his lap. Smiling brightly, his hands begin to run up and down my thighs in a comforting way, not a I’m-about-to-fuck-you way.
“Tell me, Sadie, have you always been brave?”
I twist my lips to the side and shrug. “I learned to be brave at a young age.” It was a necessity.
“I can tell. You have wisdom in your bravery. It’s sexy as hell.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.” Instead of pulling me down for a kiss, a move I thought he would make, he continues to rub my thighs. “Brothers or sisters?”
Caught a little off guard, I settle into his touch and answer, “Two sisters. I’m the middle child. What about you?”
“Two brothers. I’m the youngest.”
“You would be the youngest,” I tease.
“What? Do I have baby written all over me?”
“You have spoiled rotten written all over you.”
“Spoiled? Oh come on, that’s not true.”
I scoff. “You can tell you always get what you want.”
His smile turns leisurely as he looks me up and down. “Believe me, baby, I get what I want because I work for it, not because it’s given to me.” The way his eyes travel up to mine, I know he’s talking about me. He confirms it by saying. “You weren’t an easy shell to crack.”
“I told you, I don’t want any more friends.”
“You never can have enough friends, Sugar Britches.” Switching subjects, he asks, “So what are you majoring in over at the prestigious Cornell? Which, by the way, it’s sexy as fuck that you’re such a brain.”