James
"Delilah, let's go home, and I'll tell you everything. Explain it."
I sound angry, and I am. All the progress I made tonight. All the trust I gained. All the hope that blossomed. Fucking mowed down in less than five minutes by a sleazy near hookup that never should have happened. And Ryan? What the hell? If this fragile thing between Delilah and I lasts the night, he'll be lucky if I don't beat the shit out of him. He had no right to interfere. It's bad enough Roxanne was here. Encouraging her to intrude and stir up trouble? Uh-uh.
"John, if you are up there, man...if you are on our side...please rescue me here."
Praying to John is a fool's errand, but short of groveling—which I will happily do if it works—I'll try it.
"Was she the 'fun' on that job?" Delilah's expression is blank. I can't read a damned thing. We are, however, holding hands, which perplexes me. I ain't letting go, though.
"Yes. No. Both. Neither. Dammit, D-doll. Can we go to your place and talk it out?"
Delilah blinks a dozen times and glances around the quickly emptying room. "All right."
"All right?"
"Yeah. All right. That's it." She turns and leads me out of the ballroom. On the way out, I spot Ryan and Roxanne. If I weren't so fucking pissed I'd laugh. Both Lisa and Zann are reaming the two of them. I guess they saw what went down.
The car is like a morgue on the way home. I wouldn't be surprised to see frost forming on the windows. I roll many variations of an explanation through my aching head. None sound good. When it comes down to it, I had sex, more or less, with Roxanne. I've never regretted getting naked with a woman more. Hell, I want to slice off my own damned balls.
Inside Delilah's condo, she tosses her purse on the counter, kicks off her shoes and goes into the bedroom. The door slams. I stand in the middle of the living room like an asshole wondering what to do, what to say, what's gonna happen.
I pull off my suit coat and loosen my tie as I head into the kitchen in search of the bottle of booze I left behind. It's sitting on the counter, an empty glass next to it. What was D doing drinking bourbon? Not bothering to find a clean glass, I pour a healthy amount into it and toss back half.
"How do you do that? That shit burns like a mother fucker."
I nearly choke as I didn't hear Delilah return, but more so, because I've never heard her cuss so vividly. She usually avoids it. In answer, I shrug. "It's an acquired thing. When you're an asshole like me, you find yourself burying your sorrows more often than not. I figured I might need to do a bit of burying tonight."
"Ah. Right." Having changed her clothes, she grabs a bottle of white wine and pours a reasonable amount, taking small sip. The silence is awkward. She slips past me and makes herself comfortable in a corner of the sofa. With nothing else to lose, I sit next to her without crowding.
"So, you got busy with boob-a-liscious while 'working.' " She sets down her glass in order to offer up air quotes. I feel about two inches tall.
"Fine. Here it is. Then you can kick my ass out." I finish the rest of the drink and pour more from the bottle I brought from the kitchen. This is not going to end well. The writing is on the wall. Without meaning to, I fucked up, pure and simple. "I was working. With Demetri and Jax. The job I told you about was the truth. We had to mingle with the crowd and act like playboys to get into the private club."
She nods. "You must be a terrific actor, then." Her voice drips with sarcasm. Sting.
"Yeah, well, a lot of beer and booze happened. A lot. I'd been trying unsuccessfully to bury all these feelings I had for you for weeks. I flirted with Roxanne, but that's all it was supposed to be. Just a front to set us up. The more we drank, the more making out with Roxanne seemed like a great idea." Delilah winces. "Somewhere in my fucked up brain I told myself I needed to..." God, I can't say this. It sounds so awful on so many levels.
She sighs, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Just say it, JD. It happened. Own it."
"I'm so sorry, baby." I feel tears pooling in my eyes. What the hell?
"JD, please. Rip off the damned band-aid. Let's get it over with." I can't stand the hurt I see on her face. I swallow hard, swirling the bourbon in the glass.
"Yeah, so, somewhere in my fucked up, drunken brain I told myself I needed to fuck Roxanne to get over you." Delilah gasps so loud I think she's choking. She's gone pale.
"Continue," she rasps.
"One thing led to another and we got naked. Before I could get the condom on, my phone rings. It was you. I swear it was like a bucket of ice water hit my face. I sobered up faster than a person should be able to. I kicked Roxanne out and took your call. And, felt like shit when I realized what I'd done, what I'd almost done." I can't even bring myself to look at Delilah.
"Okay. Go home. We'll talk tomorrow."
Delilah gets up and goes into her room and shuts the door.
****
The most promising night of my life got shot full of bullet holes. In an instant the glorious future I could see with Delilah evaporated. My stomach churned all night, and I barely slept. I guess I dozed off in the inky darkness of zero dark something a few times. It wasn't restful and every noise outside jostled me awake, only to launch me into another round of mental anguish. By six-thirty, I'd had enough of it and went out for a run. Followed by hitting a bag at the gym. Followed by lifting weights. Followed by an enormous cup of coffee.
It's not even ten o'clock in the morning and I'm exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Every time my phone dings with a text, my heart leaps hoping it's Delilah. Most of the time it's just a Groupon alert or other nonsense I couldn't give a rat's ass about. There was a text from Zann, but I can't look at it. Pouring my fourth cup of coffee, I slouch onto the sofa and aim the remote at the TV. I can't bring myself to turn it on. I don't deserve the distraction. I wonder if Delilah is okay. I doubt it. She probably stood in the shower and talked to John until the water ran cold. I hope she slept. Did she go to work? Of course she did.
The doorbell rings and I turn enough to stare at the door. With a heavy sigh I make the short trip to it and swing it open.
"Zann and Ryan. What a fucking surprise." I stand aside to let them in. Apparently I haven't been punishing myself enough and need backup. Thanks, John. "You two didn't waste any time coming over to beat me up." I glare at Ryan. "Although, you," I jab a finger in his direction. "Might not make it out of here alive after that stunt with Roxanne. What the hell were you thinking, man?" My exhaustion and anger work together to create a pissed off stew of epic proportions. "Even if you don't think this thing between me and Delilah is right, you had no damned business doing anything that would crush her like that."
Ryan flops onto the sofa. "Yeah. Not my best moment. When Roxie mentioned you two had been—ahem—getting acquainted when your fiancee put the kibosh on things, I told her you weren't even dating anyone, never mind had a fiancee. Then, you told us about John's letter and we saw you two together. It didn't occur to me to say anything else to Rox. I figured it was a one-off with Roxie that was best left alone. I had no idea she'd go make moves on you. I'm sorry, man."
My anger level recedes a bunch of points at the explanation. "Fine." I glare at the two of them. "What else? This isn't a social call, I'm sure. Probably more like an intervention." Zann and I sit.
"You've got that big of a hard-on for Delilah?" Zann stares at me.
"Dude. That's gross. Delilah is...hell, man. She is it. The it. With a capital I and a capital T. This goes beyond getting her into bed with me." I rub my tired face. "Except for the fact that she may want nothing more to do with me after I spilled the whole truth of the Roxanne situation to her."
"What? How much did you tell her?" Ryan has cartoon eyes, his mouth gaping.
"Well, Roxanne made sure she heard the graphic trailer for what happened in the hotel room. I filled in around those details, but didn't white wash it either. Roxanne and I never got as far as fucking, but it was damned close. Delilah's timely phone call prevented that, thankfully."
"You told her all that?" Zann's turn to look shocked.
"Yeah. Why the hell should I lie? I was drunk, trying to put my feelings for Delilah in a sealed box, and doing Roxanne seemed like a good idea at the time. Except it wasn't. There was no way I could hide from what I wanted. I even tried dating a very nice woman here in town. That's when Delilah saw us together and came unraveled. Twice I've been the reason to cause her pain, because of another woman. That sucks."
"You sure you're in love with her?"
"Yeah, Zann. I am. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide that and not act on it? I was at my wit's end. I wanted to do right by John. Instead I was being disrespectful of his memory and his wife. I hated it." I walk over to the kitchen counter, grab his letter, and hand it to Zann. Ryan looks over his shoulder. The next few minutes crawl by as they read. Part of me worries that I did misread it and my brother threatened to unleash the hounds of hell on me if I so much as touched a hair on Delilah's head.
"Wow. The asshole gave you permission. Like he'd figured out what was going to happen. Who the hell does that?" Zann rereads the letter, shaking his head in disbelief. Finally, he sets it on the table and studies me. "Do you honestly believe Delilah is falling for you, too, JD?"
I think hard on his question. Snapshots flood my memory. Every little time there was a special touch or glance. Was there longing in them? Hidden desire? I think there was. We hugged plenty. Were they all brotherly on her part? No.
"I do." My answer feels right.
"All right man." Zann stands and Ryan follows his lead. "If John's okay with it, who are we to butt in." He slaps me on the shoulder as they pass. "Good luck. I mean it."
"JD, I am sorry about last night. If you want me to apologize to Delilah, I will. Whatever you need."
"Thanks guys. I need to talk to her and see where we stand. Maybe John'll throw me another bone from wherever he is."
I could use one.
****
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***I'd like to thank James from www.goonwrite.com for the cover to "Delilah's Tears."