Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) (10 page)

Honestly, I used to get butterflies and goose bumps when Theodore touched me the right way or whispered in my ear with the right amount of breath and heat. But with Dre, even when he just puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me through a gate, my knees get wobbly, my breath catches and quickens, and my heart skips multiple beats.

When Dre slid behind me on the carousel, I knew for certain that I was getting in over my head, but I wasn’t about to pull back on the reins and make it stop. I’ve reluctantly ridden roller coasters at nosebleed heights and at break-neck speeds, but yet, one kiddie carousel proved to be the most thrilling ride of my life. Everything changed the minute I felt his arms envelope me. I knew then that I would take this until the “complete and final stop.”

I can’t figure him out though and that’s the problem. One minute, he’s romantic and sensitive, and the next minute, he’s crass and cocky. I’m not going to lie; I like the complexity and mystery that he brings to the table. However, he scares me, because this feels like the calm before the storm, the bliss before the heartache. But the bottom line is, nobody ever gets what she wants without going for it. I want Dre Donley. I’m going for it.

“So who was the barely dressed man on your couch?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Ahhh, just a new guy on the set. He’s my co-star,” she answers. “He needs work, but too much for me to handle on my own. You wanna give it a shot?” she asks.

“Are you serious? How could he need work? He’s beautiful,” I wonder. The man was perfect; he was no “Dre Donley,” but was damn good-looking.

“He’s got a two-pump peter; ain’t nobody got time for that,” Syd says, waving him off. “I’m supposed to see if he’s got something, anything, we can work with.”

Sydney Rogers dropped out of college after her sophomore year of school. Syd likes to say that she “dropped out,” but that’s debatable. Academic probation and her 1.9 grade point average could have a little to do with it as well. It was mind-blowing that she scored high enough on the SAT to actually attend Georgetown, but she did. I’m still not sure how that was possible. Our high school was a joke, so her grades were high enough, I guess.

But anyway, Syd is not the most academic person around. Shortly after she dropped out, she started waiting tables at a local bar in D.C. When she realized that her tips were not paying the bills, she began stripping at one of the upscale joints in D.C., a place frequented by Senators and Congressmen. It wasn’t long before Sydney made a name for herself, bringing in the big bucks.

Sydney’s too pretty to be a stripper, even if she was making over a grand a week in tips. She knew she should be taking her talents elsewhere. Where she took them wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Sydney quickly became Ivy Sterling, adult movie star. Ivy is in high demand, because she does it all and takes it all on. I tried repeatedly to talk her out of these decisions, but the more I pressed, the more she was certain that “acting” was the career she wanted to pursue. Kyle, her brother, came to D.C. to help me talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. Sydney loved the limelight, even if it only shined a dim, gray light on her.

When I got the job in Charleston at the Seaside Literary Agency, I convinced Sydney to become a “remote” actress and move to Charleston with me, so I could keep an eye on her. Whenever Syd’s director needs her, she flies to location and films. Sometimes, the film crew even comes to her in Charleston, which I prefer the most. I hate that she chose this avenue, but I can’t judge her for the choices she makes. I just have to be the friend she deserves and pray like crazy that she’s happy and safe.

I do have to admit; she’s pretty good. Sydney actually made me sit down and watch her movies, all 17 of them. It was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been in my life, but she said that if I were a true friend, then I’d watch them and not look away. I’m scarred for life and may remain celibate for eternity, but at least I have the title “true friend.” When she is recognized in public, Sydney’s usually mortified—if I’m with her. When she’s recognized without me around, Sydney disappears, and Ivy becomes the life of the party or the restaurant or the gas station, wherever she happens to be.

Overall, Syd’s a pretty good actress with a killer body. If she were more ambitious, then she could’ve been a real model or a real actress, but she’s not. I’ve accepted it—for the most part. I just pray that someday soon some rich mogul will snatch her up, marry her, and take her out of this lifestyle. I don’t want this to be her forever; Syd deserves way more than that. Plus, I don’t know how long the career of a porn star can really last.

“Good morning, Pebbles. I’d have brought you a coffee, but I know you don’t like it,” I say, leaning against the building as Kathryn gets out of her car.

“Hmmm … I’ve nothing clever to say,” Kathryn responds, frowning. “I’m exhausted; I was up all night talking about this guy I went out with last night.” My heart rate quickens, which pisses me off, because I don’t want to be that guy, that whipped douchebag, that I could so easily turn into in her presence.

“Yeah, I heard you were with a pretty irresistible guy last night,” I brag.

“Really? You heard that? Hmmmm … that’s interesting. He was actually very resistible. I spent the evening at my girlfriend’s house,” she counters.

“Ouch,” I say, grabbing my heart. “I guess I’ll just drink this extra-sweet sweet tea myself then.” I start to bring the straw to my lips.

“Man, I’d do anything for that sweet tea and caffeine,” she teases, eyeing the drink in my hand.

“Anything?” I say, grinning. “Have lunch with me today, then.”

“Done! Now hand over the tea,” she says, greedily. I hand her the cup, but leave my hand on it. Our fingers overlap, and all of my senses kick into gear, revving up. Goddamn, I’m losing it.

“So Dre, did ya roll out of bed and sprint over here to see me this morning? I wouldn’t have minded if you showered and changed,” she asks, pointing out that I’m sporting the same outfit that I wore last night—and to bed.

“You could say that,” I admit sheepishly. “Or you could say that I’m about to go work out with my buddy at his hotel and plan to shower and shave after the workout … to take you to lunch.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” Kathryn smiles as she turns to enter the building. “However, if I were you, I’d leave out that silly shaving part. Some girls like a little scruff. I know one in particular who does.”

“
Duck Dynasty
here I come,” I threaten.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she says before entering the building.

After Rory and I worked out, I head over to Ariss’ Oyster Oasis to help Lanette Ariss with a few odds and ends around the restaurant before it opens. When I first got to Charleston about a year ago, I stumbled into the Oasis for a drink, just as they were closing for the night. Lanette was the only “front of the house” person working since it was so near closing time. A couple that occupied the booth in the back got into a pretty heated argument. The guy started roughing up his girlfriend, and Lanette tried to break it up. The bastard pushed Lanette back, and she fell backward, hitting her head on the bar. I’d had a pretty fucking bad day already, so I welcomed the outlet for my rage and pent up anger.

Immediately, I checked on Lanette, making sure she wasn’t hurt. Being in her early 60s, she was pretty shaken up, but relatively uninjured. The girlfriend was sobbing when the thug turned back on her. I punched him in the face, tackled him to the ground, pinned him easily, and called the cops. He was a total drugged-out loser.

The son-of-a-bitch had a domestic violence charge already. The police cuffed him and brought him down to the station. Lanette let the girlfriend take a few minutes to calm down. Lanette gave her a piece of pie and milk, and offered her a place to stay for the night. Probably not having anything else to do or anywhere else to go, the girlfriend accepted the offer. However, some time in the middle-of-the-night, the girlfriend snuck away, bailed her boyfriend out of jail, and accepted what I’m sure where heartfelt apologies and promises to never strike her again.

I’ve seen them around downtown from time-to-time, and I always have an overwhelming sense of anger to pummel the bastard and shake some sense into the girl. However, the bruises and marks on the girl remind me that people have to find their own sense of self-worth before they can better their own lives. You can’t force people to see what you see and do what you want them to do.

“Dre Donley! Thank God, you’re here, Sugar,” Lanette rushes toward me, embracing me in a bear hug. “The kegs came in a day early, and I can’t get ‘em back to the cooler alone. You know these puny busboys can’t carry them.”

“Glad to help, Lanette,” I say, smiling at her. In the past year, she’s become my confidante, a go-to person when I need a little motherly advice.

“What’s with that shit-eating grin, Doll? You holdin’ out on me with somethin’?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Nah, I ‘d never hold out on my number one gal … But I did just want to make sure you had a table available for lunch today … out on the patio?” I question.

I hate outdoor seating, but Kathryn seems to love it. I guess I can sweat my balls off to make her happy. But really, nobody should sit outside to eat in the middle of the afternoon in South Carolina.

“Dre baby, you knows I’s always gots room for you … Wait just a second. Hold on one minute. Why you checking with me first?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her toe.

“I just wanted to make sure, that’s all Lanette,” I say.

“How many people gonna be at this table, Dre?”

“Two,” I reply

“Rory comin’ wit ya?” she asks.

“Nope, he’s gotta work.”

“Spill it! You ain’t brought one person here before today. Now tell me what’s going on,” she orders.

After Lanette hears about my month-long stalking saga of Kathryn, she’s as giddy as a schoolgirl, making plans for my lunch date. Lanette’s more excited for my date than I am. Well, maybe. She even makes one of the bussers go steal some camellias in the gardens from some of the neighboring houses, so she can put a special bouquet on the table she’s planning to reserve for us. Lanette loves flowers and greenery, but she’d never cut down any of her own.

“Dre, I just can’t wait to meet her. I’ve been wondering about you,” she admits. “All pretty boy and never bringing any young women around. It’s good to know my instincts were right. You’s just a picky one—not a prissy one,” she says, laughing loudly.

“Lanette! You didn’t really think I was gay, did you?” I ask, somewhat offended.

“I hoped not, but ya never know in this day in age. Everyone always experimentin’ with something … or someone,” she says, shaking her head.

Kathryn and I are laughing hysterically as we enter the Ariss’ Oyster Oasis, which visibly thrills Lanette. On the way over, I attempted to woo Kathryn and make her swoon, but I inevitably made myself look like a total douchebag instead. I mentioned how I loved a certain book (the book I saw that she was raving about on Facebook). I’d picked it up at the library and tried to get through it, but it was a snooze fest.