Nightmares Deferred, Chapter 8

Nightmares 8: Call Your Girlfriend

 

”Call your girlfriend. It’s time you had the talk…”

– Robyn

 

 

“He’s getting therapy because of you,” Stefano states.

Things with Stefano were bad now after we returned home from Dubai. Of course, they were. I want to call up Malone right now, right at this moment to tell him that “I TOLD YOU SO”. He should have avoided me at all costs. Now, look what’s happening. Stefano and I are arguing for every single reason possible. He’s masking the fact that he can’t get over this situation with Malone. He’s masking the fact that he’s already in love with me and intimidated because Malone and I have deeper chemistry.

So we break up.

Almost every day.

Almost every other day.

And we get back together and the first thing he wants to do is let out his true feelings about Malone because during our separation he’s had time to really “Delve deep” into it.

“Please tell me we aren’t about to get into another Malone conversation,” I sigh.

“Yes. Yes, we are. Because I’ve had time to delve deep into it,” Stefano retaliates in an Italian accent so thick I think he’s completely abandoned reality and skydived into his own mind.

This is what the real Stefano sounded like. Not the sexy mature slow speaking Italian that pronounced every syllable like he wanted to fuck you. It was this person. This whining, sensitive, barely English-speaking drama queen.

“Ok let’s go down the rabbit hole if you insist,” I sigh sitting up, “Why do you know Malone is getting therapy? Aren’t there laws prohibiting you from sharing information about your staff with me?”

“Oh fuck laws. This supposed straight guy is having gay thoughts about my husband—-”

“Fiance…”

“Soon-to-be husband,” he corrects me, “I paid some intern to go into the office and steal the notes. I started reading them. Do you want to know what he’s talking to the goddam shrink about, Troy? Guess. Go ahead. Here. Let me give you a sample.”

“This is highly illegal Stef.”

“Fuck that. Fuck laws. Do you think I give a fuck about laws? Fuck laws. Fuck HIM. Look at this. He says here: Troy’s ass isn’t the nicest ass I’ve ever seen. Deja’s ass is so much better but for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about him. Even during sex with Deja.”

“Fuck!” I jump up. I don’t want to hear this. This was enough.

I’m retreating to the bathroom. I’m running a bath. This doesn’t stop Stefano. It doesn’t come close to stopping him. He grabs me swings me around and slams my wrist up against the wall. I feel my body shiver. Stefano puts his other hand on my throat. He’s choking me.

“Where you think you going?” he asks me.

I push up against him. I’m strong but he’s stronger and with his hand against my throat I can’t do much. All he has to do is tighten to control any sort of struggle I could make. I start feeling my throat closing. I start feeling my head getting lighter and lighter.

“I can’t breathe…Stefano. Stefano, I’m scared…”

Looking back at Stefano, I almost don’t recognize the man. He’s almost a stranger right in front of my eyes. He’s looking down at me and he isn’t this loving man. He isn’t this whining man either. He’s scaring me. He’s scaring me.

“ The counselor has notes in here wanting the couple to come together and discuss the pros and cons of Deja allowing Malone some time to pursue you and get it out of his system. He plans on using private sessions to get Deja to see she is better off without Malone. The fucking counselor plans on getting Malone to see that the love of his life may actually be TROY! YOU READ THESE FUCKING NOTES!”

That’s why he’s really mad. That’s why I can’t see the white in his eyes barely. That is why he is a demon all of a sudden. His curiosity had led him to snoop into the wrong places. Now he was choking me so bad that the notes fall on the ground and fly every which way. He has one paper in his hand. Maybe that is the paper where the counselor mentions Malone being my soulmate. But I doubt it.

It could be any paper.

It was a symbol. A fucking symbol.

And before I know it I black out.

~

Nothing.

~

Nothing.

~

Nothing.

~

Light. I am wailing out. My hands are pressing forward grasping at anything, hoping that I can feel someone’s familiar hand and know I am not dead. Nothing like that had ever happened to me.

“It was bad enough you did this Stefano, but I get it. You were upset. I get it. Just help me up. Just help me…”

That’s when I realize it hasn’t been a second or two that has passed. It has been hours perhaps. I’m hungry now. It’s dark outside. And there is no Stefano. He’d abandoned me!

~

“Come in. He got your message. He’ll be with you in a second. Are these your bags? I’ll take them to your room.”

The girl who greets me at the penthouse is young. She’s a redhead this time. Last week there was another girl. You wouldn’t know the difference if you didn’t really pay attention. She’s wearing a similar blouse to the other girl. They have similar heels. It’s as though they shop at the same place. It’s as though they were the same stylish young, trendy girl. But they weren’t the same.

“Thank you,” I state.

Diamonte Rose was the only person I could go to in a time like this. It wasn’t only that he had the means to have someone stay with him but it was also that he wasn’t the type to gossip. It was perfect really.

“That one’s name is Virginia…no West Virginia,” a voice states.

I stop at that moment and see something that shocks me. It’s fuckin Malone! And he’s shirtless! He has some shorts on that are barely clinging to him. At that moment seeing Malone in such a vulnerable sexy way, I lose it.

I completely snap.

“Oh FUCK that!” I scream out at the top of my lungs, moving forward with a finger so violent you would have thought it was a cobra, “YOU fucking Diamonte? That little HOE in the bar was one thing but now you are going to fuck my mentor?”

I’m making a scene. What pisses me off, even more, is Malone’s response. He doesn’t find it necessary to defend himself. He opens his mouth as though shocked I’m coming at him like this and then continued to laugh. Yes, laugh! Right in my fucking face in this sexy-conniving-but-still-so-so-so-so-sexy sort of way.

“You got nothing to say?” I continue violently. To HELL with the fact that Virginia or West Virginia or East Virginia or whatever the fuck her name was had returned back to the room to try to calm me down.

I push her off me.

I am BEYOND myself at this point. Just imagining Malone touching him in any sort of way had sent me clean over the edge.

Malone turns to me. He faces me. He shakes his head. That conniving irritable, sexy ass fucking grin crawls across his face again letting me know he’s enjoying this.

“He doesn’t have anything to say because there is nothing to say,” Diamonte’s voice calls out from the next room, “He’s staying in our guest room.”

Diamonte walks out and Asher is with him. Asher has Diamonte wrapped up in his arms. Clearly, the couple has invited Malone over as a guest for some reason. I had no idea that Diamonte was that close.

“Why is he here?”

“Oh don’t get feisty with me because you showed your true colors,” Diamonte calls me out rolling his eyes, “Malone is my muse. From time to time I require my muses to stay with me in order to inspire my vision of the line.”

I’m confused.

“You aren’t even designing clothes. It’s me and Stefano.”

“It’s MY company. It’s my vision,” he states struggling at that moment, “YOU WILL NEVER BE ME!”

Hearing him say that is shocking. I look over at Malone knowing that he is awkwardly probably enjoying that. How many times had he come over here to be comfortable enough not to have a shirt on? That was so fucking rude. Diamonte never got that comfortable with any of his other muses.

That’s when I notice something else.

“Let’s go talk some more man,” Malone states throwing his arm over Asher’s shoulders, “Let our boys figure their friendship out.”

Our boys?

OUR BOYS!

I’m furious he says it. I’m furious that he feels like he can just pick and choose when I’m his and when I’m not as though I’m some kind of toy. It wasn’t that easy.

I’m so furious that I almost forget how Diamonte just spazzed out on me. It isn’t until I turn around and see him standing there looking back at me that I remember why Malone left in the first place.

Diamonte is emotional.

“It’s ok…” I state, “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Of course you can stay here. You don’t want to talk about that. You want to talk about how I spazzed on you. I know you, Troy.”

“It’s OK.”

“Stop saying that. You challenge me all the time. I was wrong. I had no right to have Malone here without telling you. I’m not an idiot. I knew you two had weird chemistry. I was being selfish. Usually, you would call me out.”

I pause. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

“It’s Ok,” I respond.

He pauses. There is a distant view in his eye.

“You know,” he realizes.

I pause. Dammit. I didn’t mean to make him feel bad about this. I didn’t mean to make him feel so awkward.

I nod, “Yeah. It was Patience Crane. Don’t fuckin trust her Diamonte. She’s planning on replacing you with me!”

“Shh…” He states, moving closer, “I know.”

“You know?”

My eyebrow raises up at that moment. He looks around as though someone was around to want to hear. The only people around were Malone and Asher. Neither one of them cared enough. But then I realize I’m forgetting someone. I’m forgetting the Virginia or West Virginia girl. I notice Diamonte’s eyes gathering and watching her in the distance.

Was she a threat to him?

“She has eyes everywhere. She runs everything,” he states, “I’m nothing more than a doll. Have you heard of it? The Dollhouse?”

“I haven’t…”

“They were a branch of the Illuminati some say. Back then I was recruited because of my friendship to Wednesday Montague. Wednesday wanted me to work with Tatum St. Claire. A young new model prodigy. It never happened. Wednesday slowly began to unravel and lose her mind and Patience Crane targeted her using me. Then I became effective to Patience after Wednesday died.”

“How’d she died?”

“Murdered in a nut house by a mad woman,” Diamonte shrugged, “Just happened. It’s kind of fuckin sad. Now here I am in the fuckin Dollhouse. Working for the devil.”

“Why? She’s trying to replace you? If you know that then why not leave?”

“She says she can heal me.”

Diamonte has hope in his eyes. No. Not hope. Desperation.

“Diamonte…”

“I don’t want to die young,” Diamonte states,” I know what you’re thinking. The Diamonte you know wouldn’t take this. She’s probably lying. Patience Crane can’t cure AIDS. She can’t cure infectious diseases. But she told me she could. And so for the first time in my life, Troy, I’m not the Diamonte you know.”

“Diamonte, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop feeling sorry for me,” Diamonte is crying, “I feel sorry for myself enough. I don’t want to die. I’m fighting. Help me fight, Troy. Help me please Patience Crane. It’s not for me. I would be OK to die…if it weren’t for…ehrm-ehrm. If it weren’t for….”

“Asher.”

He nods.

“I want to marry him. I want to give him a happy ending to our story. The one he felt like we deserved. So even if I have to deal with the devil. I will. Because Asher is worth it…”

I am tearing up at this point. My body rattling as he speaks letting me know about his love for Asher. The worst part was that Diamonte was going through this on his own. Asher had no idea and it wasn’t my place to say anything.

So much was going on in my little life but there was one thing that I noticed.

Diamonte was a good man.

He was a good man and I planned on making him a GREAT friend.

~

It’s late that night. I’d managed to get into my apartment, and gather all the notes that Stefano stole on Malone’s meeting with his shrink. I shouldn’t have risked it, but I did. I didn’t read through them myself but I  stuffed in them in my suitcase and quickly headed back to Diamonte’s.

I hit the shower as soon as I get in. I wanted nothing of Stefano on me. Not even the smell of our apartment.  I’m coming out of the shower. The steam exits the bathroom with me into the narrow hallway leads to my bedroom. It’s not just a narrow hallway. This is an extra small hallway that’ll only comfortably fit one person at a time.  I leave the bathroom and hear this slow R&B music playing from one of the bedrooms. There is ultraviolet light flooding from the room along with these all these natural scents. Sage. Lemongrass and all sorts of spices. I’m suspicious.  Diamonte’s house doesn’t usually smell like this and I’m wondering if he’s trying some sort of homeopathic treatments that his fiance isn’t aware of.

It’s peaceful here.

So peaceful that I let my guard down. And that was a mistake. Because right then in that little hallway Malone is standing there.

And here we are in this narrow, zen hallway that could only really fit one of us. Also I still have my suitcase. So we’re basically stuck in a way. Where neither one could go forward without the other one going back.

“I’m not going to apologize for Wiley.”

I guess the male thot he was fucking had a name. I guess he liked him enough to remember what it was.

“Never asked you to.”

Dubai was a while ago now. It didn’t matter. Not anymore.

He’s squinting now. Dammit. He always did this. He was trying to make this a thing. It didn’t have to be a thing. All he had to do was turn around or go backward. That’s it. But he doesn’t move and he’s squinting at me. This was going to be a THING.

His voice turns all velvety and he whispers, “This penthouse is huge. Two floors. What—-5 bathrooms. 7 bedrooms. And somehow we come here on the same night even though I am only here once every other week. And we end up on the same hallway at the same time. Was there no other second in time that you could have wanted to leave the shower? No other space in the universe you’d rather be than right by my side always?”

I roll my eyes, “We already figured out what is going on here. This is getting old.”

“Destiny can’t get old,” he laughs, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that.”

“Well, this is. And I’m over it.”

“I think it’s kind of cute. Like romantic,” he laughs.

I push him. Hard. He manages to move back a little bit but not enough for me to get past him through this tight passageway. He solidifies his body making it impossible for me to push him any further.

“You joke all the time. This isn’t a fuckin joke to me!”

“So you’re mad at me?” Malone asks clenching his teeth, “Is that it? Somehow you’re blaming me. Somehow this is my fault. I’m to blame because destiny keeps putting us together?”

“This isn’t destiny to you,” I state, “If this was destiny you would claim it.”

“How?”

“Kiss me.”

All of a sudden I see him clench up. He’s done worse with other guys. I’ve known he’s done worse. This wasn’t a gay or straight thing. This was something else. It was something that neither of us had ever experienced. It was frightening.

It was vivid.

It was scary.

What was the name of this thing that was happening?

“I’m not going to fuckin do that,” he states.

“Kiss me.”

“Yo why you always with that gay shit.”

“I saw your dick in a model’s asshole,” I recall flicking at the small hairs on my chin, “That is pretty much as gay as it gets. I don’t know what you are, Malone, but it ain’t straight. Not anymore. You can’t hide behind that any—”

“Whose hiding!” he barks.

Oh, now he’s offended? He calms down quickly though. Maybe he is realizing how vulnerable he sounds or maybe he just wants to sound cool again. Who knows? It’s impossible to read Malone.

“You not really here because of the muse thing, are you?”

“No.”

“What’s going on?”

“There is this guy looking for me. This guy named Kaori Sims. He’s a big kingpin. He wants me working for him bad. It’s kind of scaring me and I don’t want it fucking up my modeling thing. So I have been staying here when I feel the heat.”

That was nice of Diamonte to do.

“Maybe I can talk to him.”

“Definitely not. You’ve lost your mind. Besides never seen him myself. Don’t even know what he looks like. He just keeps pressing me to be in the drug industry. But for some reason, it seems like the modeling industry keeps calling me. Or maybe it’s something else that keeps calling me.”

“Here we go again. Not flirting. Kiss me and find out or leave me the fuck alone.”

“What do you want from me?”

I roll my eyes. I literally just said it.

“So we going to do it?” I ask, “We going to kiss and settle this forever.”

“What’s the criteria?”

“If you like it then—-”

He stops me, “Of course I’m going to like it. You said just a minute ago that I wasn’t straight. So I’m going to like it. I think it’s clear to both of us that is at least going to be the case.”

“If you love it, then. That’s it. If you love it then things are going to need to change,” I explain.

I can almost hear the gulp of spit at the back of his throat.

“Like what?” he asks.

“You break up with Deja first. Clearly. You move in with me.”

“Oh you not mentioning fucking Stefano?” he asks.

“Clearly I’d have to fucking break up with Stefano,” I sigh, “But we move in together. Like a real relationship.”

“A gay one?”

He sounds beyond frightened of the idea.

“Yes. Malone. Like a gay one,” I explain to him, “We’ll have to figure it out with your kids. But I’m going to want kids sooner or later. But let’s not talk about that right now. I don’t want to pressure you.”

He looks at me like I have three heads.

“Now? Now you think about my pressure?” he asks.

I roll my eyes, “Whatever. We going to kiss or what?”

“Fine. Look for sparks right?”

“You’ll know.”

“How?”

“You’ll know.”

He’s quick at that moment to lean in and kiss me. He slaps his lips up against mine hard. I feel his lips smack mine and then pull back. It’s almost laughable how he does it.

He analyses the kiss or tries to make it appear as though he’s doing that.

“Nothing,” he states.

I roll my eyes so hard that I am surprised they didn’t pop out of my head.

“Stop fucking with me,” I state, “Give me a real kiss.”

He is getting scared. He’s getting really scared. He starts to retreat. All of a sudden things are getting serious for Malone and he wants to run away. He wants to get out of there as quickly as possible. But I won’t let him. No way. No how.

I grab him from the back, swing him around and kiss him. I tongue him down! My mouth presses up against his mouth. My tongue enters into his smooth mouth. His hands grab me from the back squeezing. If I could describe this kiss it would be like a kiss where people start a slow clap in a movie afterward without realizing what these people have gone through. It was an end of the movie sort of kiss. It was like Spider-Man Upside Down sort of kiss. It was the kind of kiss that won Kiss of the Year or someshit at the MTV awards and two horny teenagers walk up there. It was that kind of kiss.

And he’s speechless.

After it ends he doesn’t speak for a whole minute and then he says.

“Nothing.”

He can barely lie. I can barely even roll my eyes at this point.

“I had the perfect song for this moment.”

I open my phone and open up Robyn: Call your Girlfriend. He’s never heard it. It’s a shame. For anyone to never have taken the time and YouTubed the experience of Robyn in Call your Girlfriend. It may not be your type of music. It may not be your type of sound. But listen. Experience the dance. I watch him as he watches the video amazed that I have the balls to literally have added this song as a playlist to our life.

That’s how fucked up we both were in the head about one another.

So here I am realizing that our lives were going to change. He’d felt the spark. There was no turning back now.

Call your girlfriend
It’s time you had the talk
Give your reasons
Say it’s not her fault
But you just met somebody new
Tell her not to get upset
Second-guessing everything you said and done
And then when she gets upset
Tell her how you never meant to hurt no one
And you tell her that the only way her heart will mend
Is when she learns to love again
And it won’t make sense right now but you’re still her friend
And then you let her down easy
Call your girlfriend
It’s time you had the talk
Give your reasons
Say it’s not her fault
But you just met somebody new

This was it. Look at the dancing in Robyn’s video. This was not a sad thing. This was a celebration. We drop the charade. We become ourselves. We don’t even know who we are meant to be yet. We don’t even know who we are meant to become. But whoever we become Malone and I know we are meant to become that person together.

Robyn wasn’t sad. That was the best dancing in the world. That was a celebration. That was a relief. That was Grammy Award-Worthy.

This was a celebration! This was the anthem. This was our lives.

We walk out of there and we’re holding hands. He’s shaking. He’s crying but he’s picking up the phone. It’s seems strange that it’s happening after all this time, but it was happening all along.

When people think of us, as in me & Malone being together, they make think I’m annoying. They may think Malone is some DL nutcase who needs to get his shit together. They may be right.

But this isn’t the perfect relationship. This is Us.

Two flawed individuals.

But now we are two flawed individuals that were together.

His voice is velvet. Man velvet. Like usual.

Malone turns to me looks me in my eyes and lifts his phone to his ear, “Hello Deja? It’s time we had the talk. I’m going to give my reasons. But know it’s not your fault. Why am I rhyming? I’m sorry. I’m serious. Deja. I found someone new…”