Stroked Hard

  I kind of hope it’s something bad. I know that’s awful to say, but hell, the woman has been nothing but nasty to the people around her, and deserves a comeuppance. I know if something does happen to her, I will be out of a job, but with the references I have within the production company, I have no doubt I can be switched to another show. Maybe an actual sitcom or drama. God, that would be amazing. It would be so much better than doing hair and makeup for an individual who thinks they shit out gold-plated bars. At least that would hold me over until I launch my lip stain collection and become established.

  “You smell,” Bellini says, looking up at me. Always the polite one. “What is that? Roses?”

  “Gardenias,” I correct her.

  “It’s physically choking me. You need to go take a shower and wash that flower piss off you.”

  “I can do that,” I answer. “But that means you’re going to have to go without the other half of your makeup. I refuse to drive back home to take a shower for you and then drive back here.” The great thing about Paisley now being in charge of Bellini: I can say whatever the hell I want, and I know I won’t be fired.

  Bellini grasps her throat and starts to cough. “You retched woman. You did this on purpose.”

  If I’d known this perfume would cause Bellini to choke, I would have been wearing it every single day.

  “Contrary to what you might believe, I have better things to do with my life than think of ways to displease you.” I’m really not taking any shit today. I’m not in the mood.

  “Your face displeases me on a daily basis,” Bellini shoots back.

  “Your breath smells like rancid oranges on a daily basis thanks to your diet of Tic Tacs.”

  And that one just slipped out.

  “You’re a homely imbecile with an IQ of ten. No wonder you have to do makeup.”

  “And you’re a rabid bitch with dragons hatching out of your skank-infested vagina every hour on the hour.”

  That right there is why I’m driving home early, without finishing Bellini’s makeup. No, I wasn’t fired, but I didn’t make Paisley’s job any easier. She told me to take the day off and she would call in a sub for the day . . . once Bellini went into a fit of hysterics, tossing tables, knocking over my makeup, and taking the blow dryer only to shove it through the wall. The hole she made was actually rather impressive. My favorite though, sticking my makeup brush down her underwear. Thankfully it wasn’t my favorite brush.

  Why do I find that so funny? Because Bellini lost her cool and showed her roots.

  Her exact quote after she flipped the brush back at me was, “I hope you enjoy you’re newly exfoliated pube brush, you dumb bitch.”

  Class was nowhere to be found.

  At least the standoff sent me home early. A Netflix binge was waiting for me at home.

  As I pull up to my apartment complex, I think about breaking my lease and going somewhere else to get away from Hollis. Not that he’s tried contacting me in the last two days. But everywhere I go, I see him in my memories. It’s almost debilitating.

  I pull up into my normal parking spot, grab my things, minus my newly appointed pube brush, and head to my apartment. That’s when I see a balloon hanging on my doorknob and a letter taped to the door.

  The balloon is a smiley face that says “Get Well Soon.” Odd. Maybe someone put it on the wrong apartment door. I get closer to the note and see that is says my name on it, in handwriting that’s all too familiar.

  My heart immediately starts to pound in my chest from the thought of Hollis being here.

  Needing my privacy, I untie the balloon, take the note from the door, and walk inside my apartment, leaving everything in the entryway except the balloon and the note. I take those to the couch where I sit down and toy with the string of the balloon, gathering the courage to read his note.

  Taking a deep breath, I open it and read.

  Dear Hot Sex,

  First, I miss you. Just need to get that out in the open. I miss you, from your beautiful pink lips, to your crazy sexy smile, to Boo and Bear (I kind of miss them the most).

  I know what you’re thinking. Why is Hollis contacting me after I told him I don’t want to fall in love? Very good question, baby. It’s because I love you. (Yeah, I just wrote that in a letter, but come on, you’re not answering my calls.) And you know what? I know you love me, too. You’re just too damn scared to admit it. That’s okay, I can admit it for you.

  *Said in Melony’s sexy little voice* Hollis, I love you.

  Aw, thanks, baby. I love you, too.

  And this is where we make out and then fuck like bunnies. But since we are not together while you read this, confessing our love for each other, I will give you a shortened version.

  Boo and Bear get fondled, I lick the hell out of your pussy, you secrete with pleasure (secrete is such a terrible word), and then my penis shakes hands with your labia lips before entering that tight-as-hell hole of yours where I pound my hips into you rigorously until you come all over my cock. We chant each other’s names, I throw in another I love you, you do the same, and then we have pizza, because . . . why the hell not?

  Wasn’t that great? I think so. But since we are still apart, I can wait for pizza, because do you know why? You’re fucking worth it, baby.

  Did you read that?

  YOU’RE WORTH IT!

  See what I did there, put in the capital letters. It’s supposed to make an impact. Did it make an impact? I’m going to guess no, but that’s okay. I have time to convince you. I have all the fucking time in the world because I know for a fact you are supposed to be with me.

  You are supposed to be with me, Melony. Get that through your beautiful head. You plus me equals forever. And don’t try to calculate something else. I may be a pretty face but I know math and our math adds up.

  So once again, I’m going to Noah Calhoun your ass. Get ready, baby. I’m bringing it this go-around.

  And what’s with the balloon you ask? I want you to get well soon of course. You know that hole in your heart your dad stabbed through you so many years ago? It’s about time you recovered. I’m going to fill that hole for you, baby. I’m going to show you that a man can stick around, that you can trust me, that you can depend on me, that no matter what, I will ALWAYS be there for you.

  You’ve had your time to wallow, now it’s time to fill that hole with the right kind of love, the unconditional kind, the kind I have for you and only you.

  Please stay tuned. You will hear from me again soon.

  I love you, Melony.

  Yours forever – Big Daddy.

  Tears are streaming down my face as I read his note over and over again. Hope blooms inside me.

  Is he right?

  Is there some worth to me?

  You’ve had your time to wallow, now it’s time to fill that hole with the right kind of love, the unconditional kind, the kind I have for you and only you.

  Unconditional love. Love that means he will stay. For me though? Would he really stay . . . with me?

  Am I truly worth it?

  ***

  The next day when I return home from work there is another note on my door with a package right below it.

  I open the letter first.

  Dear Hot Sex,

  I’m hoping you gave Mr. Smiley a warm welcome. He was nervous bobbing around outside your door, not sure if he would be popped when you saw him, but I reassured the old yellow face that you would be kind. You were kind, right? Fuck, I would be sad if you jabbed a knife through his jolly face. I will give you the benefit of the doubt.

  (Please don’t stab him.)

  Now, I figured you’re not quite familiar with love, that’s okay, baby, we learn at our own pace. But I figured I would speed up the process for you. Look inside the package, this should help you out.

  I love you, Melony.

  Yours forever - Big Daddy

  Feeling excited, I open the package to find an eReader, fully stocked with books, and a note. br />
  Dear Hot Sex,

  It’s time to educate yourself. I’ve loaded this eReader with all of my favorite romances, starting with The Notebook. Your job? Start reading, soak up the words, the emotions . . . the love. Learn from these fictional characters that love will always prevail.

  And before you scowl and say, “But it’s fiction, Hollis,” take that negativity and flush it down your toilet. Fictional characters are real, ask any book nerd. Let’s make fiction become a reality for us. I’m in, are you?

  I love you, Melony.

  Yours Forever – Big Daddy.

  ***

  Tears are streaming down my face as I read the final words of The Notebook. Damn you, Hollis. Damn you Noah Calhoun and your undying love. Damn you, Nicholas Sparks.

  A knock on the door pulls my attention away from my eReader, which I will admit, I’ve become addicted to.

  Opening my door, I’m assaulted by the delicious smell of Italian food. I look down and see a tray with covered serving dishes. Quickly I look down the hall to see any traces of Hollis, but nothing, so I pick up the tray and bring it into my apartment.

  I open the lid and sitting in front of me is a very sloppy looking plate of spaghetti and partially burnt garlic bread. I smile inwardly and read his note.

  Dear Hot Sex,

  I never said I was a cook. I mean, I can cook some things but that’s about it. It all really depends how the meal turns out when I’m done. Not going to lie, I outdid myself tonight. Spaghetti with garlic bread (slightly browned).

  Growing up, my father taught me it isn’t the woman’s responsibility to cook and clean, it’s a shared responsibility. When you’re with me, baby, I will make you dinner, I will help clean, I will make my mission to show you that what we have together is a partnership. Everything is fifty-fifty.

  I’m hoping you like to cook in an apron . . . naked. Eat up, beautiful.

  I love you, Melony.

  Yours forever – Big Daddy

  P.S. Say hi to Boo and Bear for me. I miss them.

  Smiling, I dig in to the meal he prepared me.

  Not so bad.

  ***

  It’s late, my lights are out, I’m reading—thanks to Hollis—and there is a knock at my door. Thinking today was a no-contact day, Hollis has done that sometimes, I curled up, not expecting anything.

  Luckily, I was wrong.

  I open my door to find a note attached to it and nothing else.

  I lock everything back up, and go to my bed to read it. When I pull out the letter, a picture comes with it. It’s the selfie we took of Hollis kissing my cheek. We look so damn happy in the picture, it hurts my heart.

  I read the note.

  Dear Hot Sex,

  It’s crazy that this is the only picture I have of us. It actually makes me really mad. How come I was too busy to capture moments with you? I blame it on the sex. I also blame it on wanting to soak up every single moment with you and not spend it behind my phone.

  I counted on my memories lasting forever, but with my broken heart, they seem to be fading. I can’t stand the thought of not being able to close my eyes and see your smile, or smell your scent, or hear your laugh. It’s a fucking consuming fear I have because, whether you want to believe it or not, you are my everything.

  You once told me you weren’t enough. Fuck, you were so wrong. You’re almost too much. You fill my heart to capacity, Melony. You make it easier to breathe, easier to enjoy life. These past few weeks without you have been utter torture but I’ve been holding on to the idea that you will finally see value in yourself.

  I see it. I’ve seen it from the very first day I met you. You’re captivating, enthralling, mesmerizing. You hold your own, you’re funny, sexy, and have a beautiful heart. You’re everything I could ever ask for. I’m just hoping I can live up to your expectations.

  I know one thing for certain. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours forever.

  I love you, Melony.

  Yours FOREVER – Big Daddy

  More tears. That’s all I’ve been doing lately, crying. I can’t control my reactions because it is like a floodgate has opened exposing the grief I have bottled up for years. And it hurts. It hurts so bad.

  I read his note a few times, loving the way his handwriting is starting to make me feel at home, loving how he ridiculously signs it Big Daddy, and loving how he’s made me feel whole again.

  You once told me you weren’t enough. Fuck, you were so wrong. You’re almost too much. You fill my heart to capacity, Melony. You make it easier to breathe, easier to enjoy life.

  As do you, Hollis. As do you.

  When my phone buzzes with a text message, I pray that it’s Hollis but when I pick it up, my heart falls.

  Paisley: Don’t forget about my birthday party tomorrow. You promised you would come. Don’t let me down. P.S. Yes, you have to bring a present.

  Shit, I forgot about Paisley’s birthday party. I told her I would go in a moment of weakness, before she was harassing me about Hollis. It was obvious she was trying to get information for him. I haven’t talked to her in a while because I was trying to avoid her barrage of questions, which makes me feel awful. Just because I’m going through a difficult time doesn’t mean I have to be a bad friend.

  I text her back that I will be there and then plug my phone into my charger.

  Will he be at the party?

  If he is at the party, will he try to talk to me?

  Do I want him to talk to me?

  I think about it for a second and the answer is clear. Yes, I want him to talk to me. If anything, these past few weeks have proven one thing: Hollis isn’t going anywhere. It’s been over eight months since he started texting me and asking me to go out with him. Any other man would have given up by now; they would have called it quits.

  You’re everything I could ever ask for. I’m just hoping I can live up to your expectations.

  He’s worried he won’t live up to my expectations. If there is anything I don’t deserve, it is Hollis doubting he won’t be enough.

  No. Hollis hasn’t called it quits; if anything, he’s become more determined. And this isn’t one of those unachievable pursuits where the man works so hard for the girl just to get some pussy and then takes off. If that were the case, Hollis would have been long gone.

  No, he’s different. He loves me. He truly, from the bottom of his soul, loves me.

  And I love him.

  So what’s holding me back?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  HOLLIS

  “Happy birthday,” I say, looking over Paisley’s shoulder and handing her a present absentmindedly. It’s an awful thing to say, but I couldn’t care less about the birthday girl right now. I have one person on my mind right and I need to know if she is here or not.

  “Thanks. Can’t you even make eye contact with me when you say that?”

  Annoyed, I grip her shoulders, look her dead in the eye and say, “Happy Birthday. There, does that work?”

  “Not really. Your eyes are all bugged out and crazy. It’s startling actually.”

  “You’ll get over it.” I look around her some more. Ever since Paisley moved into Reese’s place, some slight decorative changes have been made. It’s not as masculine in here anymore. There are throw pillows on the couch, pictures of them everywhere, and a potted flower on the dining table. “Place looks good, Paisley. Nice flower.”

  “You talking about my girl’s vagina?” Reese asks, walking up behind her, blocking my view of their house.

  “Yup, that’s what I like to do, walk into your condo and start discussing your girlfriend’s vagina with you. Nailed it on the head, buddy.”

  “Cut it the fuck out. You’re not allowed to talk about it.”

  “Christ,” I rub my eyebrows, willing away the headache that wasn’t to appear. “I wasn’t talking about her vagina.”

  “It would be a great topic of conversation if you were,” Paisley adds. “I’m very proud of my vagina.” br />
  Losing my temper, I say, “That’s great and all, but I couldn’t care less about your vagina. What I want to know is if Melony is here.”

  Smiling at each other in a conspiratorial way, Reese says, “She is. She’s floating in the pool as we speak.”

  “In a bathing suit?” I ask, my cock already starting to get happy over the thought of seeing her scantily clad body.

  “Nope,” Reese says. “Strangest thing, she showed up in her grandma’s wedding dress and is floating in that. Something about how she doesn’t want skin cancer.”

  I look Reese up and down. “You’re a dick.”

  “Don’t ask idiotic questions.”

  “Can I just come in already? Jesus.”

  “You know, we had this party for you,” Reese points out. “If it was my way, I would be spending the day naked, worshipping Paisley’s body.”

  “And getting a new tattoo,” she adds.

  “Yes, what great things you could have done,” I reply with sarcasm. “But you did this instead, for me, so why don’t you both step aside so I can make things happen? Maybe the sooner I’m able to make up with the girl, the sooner we can leave, and the sooner you two can start to fuck like bunnies.”

  “He has a good point,” Reese says.

  “He really does,” she agrees but still not moving.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I blow past them as they laugh at their little game. I head straight to the kitchen where I put the card I brought for Paisley. It has a certificate to a day spa I’m sure she will enjoy. From the window, I look out into the backyard where I see Melony floating in the pool on a giant soft pretzel.

  Shit, she looks so damn good.

  “What’s your plan?” Reese asks, coming up from behind me.

  “Not sure yet. I was kind of hoping she would call or send me a text about the notes I’ve left her, but I haven’t heard a fucking thing. I have no idea what she might be thinking right now. Did she say anything to you guys?”