KJ's POV
I leave work with a sense of hopelessness. What else don't I know about the kids I serve? Should I take a more serious approach to their sessions? Am I too unstructured? Am I even helping any of them?
Right as I get to my bike, I get a text.
So you thought you could come back into town and not say anything?
I reply immediately, confused. Who is this?
My phone rings and I see its the same ID the text came from. "Who is this?"
"Is that anyway to address your son?" his voice has changed, it's dropped, but is still recognizable.
"Beck Blume?My Beck Blume?"
"You fucking right," he laughs, "Where are you? I demand your presence."
"I'm just leaving work," I tell him, "You?"
"Omg me too! Here meet me here," he rambles off an address to me that I manage to take down.
I meet Beck that evening at a gay bar downtown. Even though he's grown since high school, he still stands out, his hair bleached white except a streak of lime down the middle of his up-do.
He's tall physique as slimmed, his body seemingly toned from working out. His style seems to have hit a puberty of his own, the bright colors of old replaced by new more sophisticated ones. Our eyes meet and he immediately rushes me, engulfing me in a hug, and swinging me around, "Mooooom!"
"Okay! Okay! I missed you, too. Damn! Put me down!"
He does and I take him in once more, "Damn. Is that a beard I see?"
"I'm a grown man," he laughs, "And oh my God, your hair!" He reaches out to touch it, "It's so shooooorrrtt."
"Had to make some changes," I shrug. We head inside, the bar, a neon sign indicating the name of the bar is LOVELY'S. Upon entrance, loud music blares as teens and young people alike dance with each other, everyone comfortable with each other. Beck leads be to a stair case, which takes us to the upstairs part, which is serves liquor and food and is strictly 21 and up. We end up grabbing a seat at a booth in the back, where Beck orders appetizers and drinks for both of us.
"This place is pretty neat," I comment. He nods, "I started coming here after you and Nat left for college. It's a good place for teens to be themselves, no pressure."
"God it's been way too long," he sighs, "How have you been?"
Well... My mind runs over my life the last five years. Where even do I begin?
"I've been exactly how you expect me to have been," I reply instead.
He chuckles, "Exactly the same yet totally different."
Our server comes back with our drinks and I take a sip of the fruity goodness, most of the alcohol seemingly hidden by it's sweetness.
We talk about any and everything over drinks. Even though it's been years since we've seen each other, it feels like it's been only days.
"Hey, what ever happened to Layne?" He asks suddenly, "You've talked about everything but her."
"Funny you mention it..." my voice trails off just as I catch a glimpse of a girl with hair stopping below her ass, a Latina woman at her side.
"Speak of the devil..." Beck turns his head to see what's caught my attention, "I'll be damned. She got prettier."
"Ssh," I hush him.
"Go talk to her!"
"I can't," I shake my head, "It's not that simple." A barrage of memories flow through me and I suppress them all, "Besides. I'm seeing someone else now."
And evidently so is she...
"You two were really cute together," Beck mumbles to himself, "Shame that you're a piece of shit."
I hit him, "Shut up!"
***
After awhile I head home, in a better mood after seeing Beck again. He served as a reminder of my youth. Of who I used to be, and how thankful I am to be who I am now.
When I get home, Vin is relaxing on the couch, downstairs, having waited up for me obviously, "Hey, where did you go after work?"
"I ran into an old friend," I reply, "We had drinks and grabbed dinner."
He stands, kissing my forehead, "Was it Layne?"
"No," I shake my head, not mentioning how close we were tonight, "It was a guy."
We both get ready for bed, then find ourselves intertwined beneath the sheets.
"Baby Girl?" he asks me, as I wrap my arms around him.
"Mmhm?"
"I wouldn't be mad if you talked to her. You know that, right?"
"I know," I reply, "I don't want to talk to her."
Layne's POV
I open the door to Mira, who is dressed in a fitted crop top and pencil skirt, "Well hello."
I go to kiss her and she turns her head, the kiss landing on my cheek, "No sex. Take me out on a date."
"Date?" Is she serious? I'm by no means an expert, but I don't believe that booty calls are supposed to go like this.
"Take me out. On a date," she says it even slower, mocking me, "And not dressed like that."
I stare at her, confused, before nodding, "Alright. Come in and I'll go get changed."
I head to my room, changing into something nicer than the sport's bra and shorts I answered the door with. I put on a dress instead, a dark maroon color with long sleeves and a dangerously low v-line. I match it with a pair of matching combat boats, accented with black laces, then head back out to Mira.
Her eyes scroll up and down my outfit, lingering particularly long on the swell of my breasts barely contained by the dark fabric.
"Better, mi conejita?" I ask her and she blushes, my nickname for her making a return. She looks away, "Si si. Mucho mejor."
I guide her chin, so that she's looking back at me, "Can I kiss you now?" I search her eyes, "You know you wanna..."
She pulls away from me, and snaps, "Puedas dejarlo, mi güera?"
"Sorry," I pull back, "I'll get my bag and we can go, alright?"
She nods and I return. We're silent on the way to her car before she turns to me, "I should call you 'coqueta'. Flirt."
Flirt. I couldn't even be made if she did call me that. "What do you call me now?"
"Fair skinned. Essentially, white girl," she smirks.
"I don't know which one is worse," I laugh a little, "If I'm nothing but a white girl to you, what made you ask me out?"
"You don't know much about me," she replies, "I'm just the maid that you sleep with. I don't want to be that anymore."
She's quiet after that and I let it stay that way until we reach our destination, some bar downtown. LOVELY'S. "Our first date is at a bar?"
"They have really good cheeseburgers," she parks, "Let's go."
We get out and head inside. I follow Mira upstairs, my eyes fixated on her ass. We take our seat at the bar and she smiles at me, "So..."
"You say I don't know you," I prompt, "What am I missing?"
"Layne," she pauses, "What country is my family from?"
"Cuba."
"No. Costa Rica. What's my real name?"
"Mira?"
"No. It's Maria Castella. Mira is a nickname I got from my little cousin because he couldn't pronounce my real name."
"It isn't like you know everything about me either." I suddenly feel defensive. Of course I know things about her. How can two people go years with each other and still know nothing about the other?
She shakes her head, "You forget. I was your caretaker before I was your lover." I frown and she brushes my cheek gently, "Don't be sad. That's why we're here."
The bartender serves us our drinks and we sit in a reserved silence, thinking.
"You said that you don't want to just be the maid I'm sleeping with," I break the silence, "What do you want to be then?"
She doesn't say anything, so I prompt her again, "Do you wanna be my girlfr----"
"No! God no!" she cuts me off, "You're way too young for me to be dating. I think I just don't want to feel used. I want us to be friends, above anything else."
I nod, "Okay then."
After that we talk on and off about her life. Her family. Her school work. It hits me that I've been sleeping with her on and off since we met, but I hadn't bothered to ever get to know her.
There seems to have been a lot of things I hadn't bothered to do recently.
After our date she drives me back to my apartment. "I had fun tonight."
"Me too," I go to get out and she grabs me, "You aren't going to ask me for a kiss good night?"
"I don't deserve it," I say, getting out the car.