Recklessly (12 page)

“You told her to hit on guys?”

“What are you worried about? Her ending up with a guy like you?”

“She’d be so lucky…” Wes said, laughing. “Her mom is my mom’s little sister, and Mom always had Aunt Vicky’s back, so Abe and I try to do the same thing. I know she’s an adult, but it’s hard to see someone you used to babysit going out on dates.”

“I bet she’s doing more than—”

“
So,
as much as it gets under my skin that Char is…
dating,
that was a nice thing you did. You’re pretty amazing, Lana Langston…”

“I know…”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “A page out of the Wesley Elliott Guide to Conceit. I like. You know what else I like about you…” Wes reached down and grabbed a handful of her butt. “You’re so…
bendy
…”

Lana brushed her lips across his chin. “Can I put that on my resumé and list you as a reference?”

“Yes...also that you don’t fret over everything during sex. Very awesome. You don’t even know how many women I’ve been with who—”

“And how many is that, actually? Like more than your age?” An expression of amused curiosity formed on her face.

Sitting up for a minute, Wes cleared his throat and drank down the entire full glass of water from his nightstand without breaking as she looked on still expecting an answer. “…Like I was saying, so many women I’ve been with are worried about what their ass looks like or if it’s jiggling. Uh, it’s your ass and you’re a woman.
I want to see it,
and it’s supposed to jiggle if I slamming you from the back—”

“Wes…where are you going with this?” Lana said, laughing.

“You just seem like you’re having fun when we do it. You make it known when you like something...I love when I feel you yanking my hair…it’s very hot.” He closed his eyes as she weaved her fingers through then tugged on it.

“Like that?”

“Exactly like that. And that makes me have fun and want to do more to you…”

“Well, maybe, we’re both the ugly guy at the prom, Wes. We’re just so fucking happy to be here. And what can I say, I’m a glutton for an orgasm,” Lana said with a chuckle before her eyes widened. “Although, I wish
you’d
pull my hair…”

Holy shit.
“Done.”

“So you’re not going to answer the question?” she said, a sly smile cocking a side of her mouth up. “What’s your number?”

“Nope. If I can’t ask a woman her age, you can’t ask a dude where his dick’s been in general. Dem is the rules.”

“So, over twenty-four then?”

They had been like this—naked, entangled—for hours since she got to his place earlier in the day after she sent him a text to say she wanted to come over. But they had seen each other pretty steadily the past two weeks, and even texting back and forth in between. Debates about the best surf breaks in California and talk of Dostoyevsky and Flaubert interspersed with sexy pictures of each other. What more could he ask for?

And with Abel out surfing somewhere, and Charlotte spending the day with friends, it was the perfect opportunity for them to talk surfing, watch movies, play-fight, and have sex all over the house, but he’d pushed the pizza delivery back twice now because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Lana giggled against his lips. “Jesus, Wes. Does it ever
not
get hard?”

“Uh…not when you’re lying directly on top of it…and not when you tell me you like getting your hair pulled, dude.” But the answer to her question was an emphatic no.

“Well, as much as I like kissing you…
and other things
, this wasn’t quite what I meant to do with my hands.” She scrambled off the bed and went to her bag she’d brought. “Do you mind if I sit out on your balcony and draw a little bit?”

“Not at all. Now that we’re both on our feet, I’m ordering the pizza, okay?” Wes warned as he grabbed the clothes that were strewn all over the room. “I’m going to get dressed soon and order the pizza.”

Lana laughed. “Yeah. Let’s eat. I wanna shower first. Get in with me?”

“Nope. We know where that’s gonna lead…”

Giggling, she retrieved a medium-sized sketchpad and set it on his desk before heading into his private bathroom, and soon the shower was running.

His phone had been chiming with notifications all day, so he grabbed it to read the missed texts, spotting a few from his mom. He’d been trying to figure out how to talk to her about what Charlotte had told him and what had happened the night he found her on the patio. Was it even his place? He’d had a few sleepless nights worrying about her, especially if she was really putting up with his father’s supposed infidelity. He pressed the phone to his ear after he dialed and wrapped a towel around his waist. There was something darkly humorous about talking to his mom post-coitus, but psychologically, he couldn’t deal with being on the phone with her while naked.

“Hi, Wessie,” she said cheerily when she answered. “Get rid of the tattoos yet?”

She’d always be the only one allowed to call him that, and he really loved hearing her sound happy. “
Ever
y one. How’s my girl?”

“Good. Grocery shopping. Having friends over tonight for dinner. Neighbors. Some people from Beau’s job, too.”

“People you like?” Wes walked over to where Lana had laid the sketchpad and peered at a random page he turned to. It was a sketch of
Vices Hollywood
from across the street, incomplete and lightly shaded, with nondescript people standing outside of it. It was raining heavily in the picture and there was a young woman sitting across the street staring up at a shaded couple visible through one of the windows.

“Most of them. And there’s this new girl from his work coming. I don’t really know her.”

“Girl?” Wes gulped down.

“Yeah…I really think you guys could’ve gone to high school together. She’s young. Very young. She’s his boss’ secretary but somehow she always manages to be in
his
office when I call there…”

Fuck.
His chest quaked. He wondered if this was the woman. Could he say something now? Press hard enough to spark the idea of her leaving? No, kids weren’t supposed to talk to their parents about stuff like this. Even adult kids.

“…Vegetarian. I’m making two sets of meals at her husband’s request.”

“She’s married?”

“Yeah, according to Beau’s guest list.” He perked his ear to the sounds in the bathroom. The water was still running. He didn’t want Lana to hear.

“So…how are you, Mom,
really
?”

“I’m good, Wessie, but I’m embarrassed. I feel like there’s this pink elephant on the phone with us whenever we speak. I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologize for what happened at your house; no one wants their son to see them that way. I’m so very sorry.”

“It’s okay…” He smiled sadly, heart growing heavy. “I just wish you didn’t have reasons to…you know…”
Drink.

“And what reason is that?” she asked, with either annoyance or embarrassment staining her tone.

Your goddamn father. Your fucking father.
The memory of her words burned his chest.
“Dad—”

He had barely articulated the word to completion before she cut in. “Okay, now that I’ve apologized, we’re back in regular mother-son mode—”

“I meant everything I said, Mom. Abel and I—”

“We can’t talk about this, Wesley. I don’t want you involved in our problems.” Her voice kicked up into a stern tone.

“I know, but—” Lana’s phone rang in her bag. It had been doing that all day, and even more interesting was her calculated refusal to answer it when she picked it up and stared at the screen.

“Your dad and I…we had breakfast the other morning—he read his paper and I sat with my iPad—and it was fine.” He remembered those mornings. He hated those mornings. They were so silent. As disturbing as it was to say, those were worse than the shouting. They were anything but comfortable, and they usually dragged out for hours. Days. “Enjoy your Saturday, okay? And see someone about all that stuff on your skin.” She laughed. “I love you, Wesley.” And she was gone.

Well, so much for that.
He tossed his cell, sighing, before he turned to another page in Lana’s sketchpad, and gasped. A second incomplete sketch, but recognizable: a guy with a heavily tattooed arm, gesturing and sitting on a curb with a smile, subtle but self-assured, and eyes focused in the direction of the sketch artist—if there had been one. She’d done this purely from memory and imagination.

“Oh! You weren’t supposed to see that.” Lana emerged from the bathroom drying her hair with a towel as she rushed over and snatched the sketchpad away.

“It’s awesome.”

“Thanks…” she said in a whispered tone. “It’s not done.”

“It’s beautiful, either way.” Her face brightened for a moment at the words. “But I’m sorry I looked…are you going to paint it?”

“I don’t know…” She shrugged. She nervously dragged her teeth across her bottom lip and turned her back to him with the sketchpad tight against her chest.

“What if I asked you to?”

“I don’t know…maybe…this isn’t really the stuff I paint.”

“Then why’d you draw me?”

She shrugged. “I draw everything, Wes.” She said it so tersely, he knew he would only get more resistance if he continued, so Wes opted to change the subject. The drawings in this sketchbook were clearly much more sentimental than the stuff on her bedroom walls.

“What’d you bring me?” he asked gleefully.

“
On the Road
,” Lana said as she reached into her bag for it. Somehow her book club joke had turned into a real trade; this was their first.

“And what do you have for me?”

“
Into Thin Air.
Nice shirt.” He gestured at the Lava logo on the black t-shirt she was wearing.

Lana grinned. “It was hanging on the door…and I didn’t want my dress to get wet from my hair. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Girls in my shirts are always a win.” He squeezed her sides. “Oh, I have something to show you.”

“You’ve been showing me things all day, Wes. Your kitchen looks great upside-down from the coffee table, bee-tee-double-you.”

Wes burst out laughing as he walked over to the wall-mounted bookshelf. “Thanks. It came fully furnished, but Abel did some of the decorating; I’ll let him know. But it’s actually this…” He returned to her side with
Into Thin Air,
but also another book,
The Catcher in the Rye,
one of his most prized possessions.
He rarely shared this side of himself with others, but he just knew Lana would get it.

“Holy shit. Is this…?”

“A first edition?
Yup.
Lava got it for me. Six years ago, I told them I’d only sign with them if they found me a hardcover, first print, first edition of this book. They could take it out of my endorsement check, if they wanted. I was sort of joking but not…and they did. Have you read it?” He held it up for her to observe since her hands were too damp to touch it. And the fact that she knew, that she didn’t even attempt to touch it, made him like her more.

“I have…but not like this. Wow…this is cool. Really cool. The dust jacket looks like it’s in perfect condition and everything.” Wes opened it. “Oh, wow. It’s a
true
first edition. It even has the original price on it. Are you collecting them?”

“I’d like to…this is my first…first.”

“Man, when sexy, tattooed, blondie surfer reads,
he reads.
” She smiled up at him. “Thank you for showing me this.”

Before he could respond, her cell rang again, but she made no attempt to get it. “Lan, you can answer it if you want. I’m not
that
guy. No-frills means you can see other guys and live your life. We’re friends. You can even talk about them. Remember, no weirdness just because you know what I look like when I come.”

“Great…but I don’t want to answer it.” She shook her head. “Even if you’re cool with it, I don’t want outside stuff coming in here. No drama, right?” Lana locked her fingers behind his neck and kissed the side of his mouth, looking much more relieved than she had a few minutes before. But now he was curious.

“Uh oh…you got some guy all sprung over you?”

“Not even. But speaking of sprung though, Kiera’s been to
Vices Hollywood,
like, three times since the infamous night.”

“Shit…was she rude?”

“Understatement of the day. She repeatedly reported me to my manager for poor service. She and her friends are lousy tippers, too.”

“Yeah…I told her we’re just friends forever. She didn’t take it too well.”

“How long was that going on?”

“On and off…like two years.”

“How many women total are in the rotation?”

“Jesus, Lan…I’m not a shift at your job!” He smirked then smiled. “And no comment.”

“I thought we could talk about the other people?”

“What happened to no outside stuff?”

“Okay, well, I’m asking because maybe part of the problem with you and Kiera was that you didn’t really set parameters.” She dropped her hands to her hips. “Guidelines. What are the guidelines here, Wesley?”

Wes smirked even harder. “What? What parameters? What guidelines? We’re friends. We fuck occasionally…a lot. A whole lot. All the time.”

Lana laughed; he still loved it when she did that.

“You’re cool with us talking about other guys in my life. Can we talk about the women in your life?”

“Yeah…I guess, sure. None of that numbers talk though.”

“Okay, so, how far does the friendship go? Can we go to the movies?”

Wes shrugged. “Yeah, sure. But kinda expensive. I like Netflix.”

“And go out to dinner?”

“But we should probably avoid the places Kiera frequents.”

“Wes, if we avoided all the place your F.W.B’s hang out, we’d have to dine in Italy.”

Wes threw his head back and laughed. “
Maybe
a rural Italian village, just to be sure.”

“Can I call you if I have a flat in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah…of course. Lana, if you’re in trouble or you need something, you can always call me. You’re still a
person
in my life. Sex doesn’t change that. The only exception—emergencies excluded—is that you can’t
expect
me to do those things with you to the point that you’d be mad if I didn’t want to. And vice versa. We both have to be okay that we’re doing those things with other people, and I think
this
was the problem with Kiera; she wanted to ignore that she always knew I was seeing other people. Anyway, it ends when one of us doesn’t want to do it anymore, and that usually happens after a while. Mostly happens from my end, not always, but mostly, and we go back to being just friends.” Wes shrugged. “Not really complicated.”