Reviving Haven (11 page)

Well hell, you know that 10.0 earthquake they’ve been promising California for the last thirty years? Could it maybe happen right now?
Please.
I’m mentally begging.

I’m uncomfortable and turning every shade of red possible, trying to avert my eyes in any other direction than hers. I can feel her wrath, and her disappointment and hurt saturate the room. I don’t blame Weezie for the way she feels. Frankly, if the tables were turned, I’d feel terribly betrayed too.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry,” I say, barely looking in her direction.

Weezie leans forward and hands me the note.

“Who the hell is Latch, and why is he buying you designer shoes?”

“Latch McKay,” I reply in a hushed whisper.

Weezie is stunned into momentary silence. It takes her two minutes to respond. She stands up and her eyes get wide.

“Latch McKay . . . you mean the hot as hell sex god who invented
Blood Vestige
?” She sounds overly excited.

I untwist my bun using my fingers and comb through my hair
, untangling it, letting my hair fall down my back. I let my hands fall to my sides and begin rubbing the top of my thighs as I try to figure out exactly how to explain all this.

“I don’t know anything about the
Blood Vestige
thingy. But yeah, he’s attractive.” I’m not sure what to say. How do I explain the things I’ve been doing?

“Are you kidding me, Haven? Latch McKay is like one of the hottest men on the fucking planet—well, him and Keenan Stone. But Jesus, Latch McKay? Wow, when you decide to get back into action after all these years, you don’t fuck around. You went right for the hot as hell guy who’s
young and rich. By the way, you’re older than he is, did you know that? And did I mention that he’s hot as hell? Since when do you go for younger guys? Not that I blame you. He’s the whole package: rich, hot, straight, and he buys you designer shoes. Marry him immediately!” She sounds winded, probably from talking too fast.

“It’s not what you think.” I don’t know how to explain poolside oral, phone sex and the office puff chore in between panties and flowers . . . oh my.

Weezie looks at me with an evil smile.

“Will we need wine for this story?” she asks.

“Oh yes, lots of it, and maybe even a joint,” I reply.

“Really, it’s that kind of a tale, huh? I thought we only smok
e pot when we are really stressed or can’t sleep.” Weezie stands up.

“Trust me, after what I’m going to tell you, you’ll probably be psychotic,” I utter nervously.

Weezie gets a bottle of wine from the kitchen and two glasses. I follow her outside and we sit at the table. She pours two generous glasses of wine.

“I’m thinking I may need a smoke for this story too?” Weezie asks, lighting up one of her cigarettes before I have a chance to respond.

“Most likely a carton,” I say under my breath as I take a sip of wine. “Just so I’m clear, I wanted to tell you all this weeks ago, but I was mortified. All this crap that’s been going on isn’t like me. Latch has some kind of fricking mojo over me.” I take another sip as I stare out into the canyon.

Weezie laughs and takes another sip of her wine along with a drag off her cigarette.

“God, Haven, the man is a walking advertisement for fucking. You’re only human. If you did actually fuck him, I’d be the first one to congratulate you. I’m willing to bet that didn’t happen though; I know you, girl. So . . . how close did you get? I hear his eyes are so beautiful they should be outlawed.”

Weezie has no idea how true that is. All I have to do is imagine his face, those eyes, and my panties become wet and my brain turns to mush.

“I got close,” I tell her, hedging the question.

She looks slightly shell-shocked. I know she’ll want every single intimate detail and I will have to provide them as penance for not confiding in her weeks ago.

“Did . . . you . . . fuck . . . him?” Weezie pants out in monosyllabic grunts.

“No, of course not.”
No intercourse, just sucking and swallowing
.

“How about I make this easy for you? Start at the beginning.” She pours more wine into our
glasses and lights another cigarette.

“It s
tarted at that party.” I avert my eyes.

She interrupts my story before it even starts. “Wait, what, the party we went to two weeks ago? You’ve been seeing Latch McKay since then?”

“Seeing him is rather a loose interpretation. I thought you wanted me to explain from the beginning,” I ask impatiently.

“Okay, fine . . . proceed.” She flicks her hand back and forth.

“Anyway, at that party, when you left to go talk to some of your friends, I saw tha—that woman-child, the one Jared dumped me for. I know it’s stupid after all these years, but I got upset so I started drinking tequila shots. Anyway, I saw Latch at the party. Well, honestly, I had no idea who he was and I just thought he was pretty. I guess we had kind of a moment, most likely it was just me buzzing from the booze. I decided to go sit by the pool and cool off.” I take another gulp of wine, my liquid courage.

Weezie cuts me off again. “I’m so sorry I left you alone. I dragged you there and then just left you,” she says as she pats my arm.

“Weezie, you cannot babysit me; it’s not your responsibility. Anyway, while I was sitting at the pool, this man shows up. We start talking, kind of, and one thing leads to another. God, do I have to tell you all the gritty details, crap!” I squirm in my chair and take another sip of wine.

Weezie appears spellbound by my story. She’s mute by this point. I think I’ve shocked her into the psychosis I promised earlier.

“As I was saying, I was pretty buzzed and it was quite dark and he had this delicious, sexy accent and really warm hands. He offered to . . . um . . . you know . . . Shit. Hell. Okay, I let him go down on me,” I spit out, hoping that last part flew right by her and she missed it.

Weezie takes another sip of wine and lights a third cigarette. Her lips curl into a crooked smile.

“So let me get this straight. You got upset, got hammered and let a complete stranger, who I will assume we now know is Latch McKay, perform oral sex on you,” she confirms with a smirk on her face.

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds really bad.” I suddenly feel ill.

“Holy shit, Haven, you had Latch McKay go down on you. This is not something you should be embarrassed about, this is something you rejoice, maybe even advertise,” she says and grins.

In my head, I’m thinking,
hell
yeah
!
I’ll just put that on next year’s Christmas cards
.
Then again, I give out more business cards—let it be known, far and wide!

“Just tell me it was fabulous, because I know for sure that twisted piece of shit, Jared, never ever did that for you.” Weezie spits his name out as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“It was beyond description.” I lower my voice to almost a whisper, as if someone might hear us. “I think I had my first real orgasm.” I feel my face warm as I blush.

Weezie stares at me as her eyes begin to water. She stands up, bends down and hugs me.

“And you so deserved to have one. Better late than never and by Latch McKay no less. I bet that man has a wicked tongue.” Weezie’s eyes flash.

“You have no idea,” I laugh.

I spend the next thirty minutes telling her about the book shoot, the flowers and the panties. I’m stalling, trying to figure out exactly how to explain my logic behind the office visit and what I did. Weezie seems to be accepting everything I’m telling her.

“Anyway, I kind of decided that a twelve year age difference is too much for me to even consider seeing him, but regardless of what I did or said, he just wouldn’t go away. I tried everything to push him away. I finally devised a plan that I thought would positively get him to leave me alone,” I say practically in one breath.

“Okay, so what was your plan?” Weezie asks.

This is the hardest part of the entire story, explaining the reason behind going to Latch’s office.

“Well, ever since the pool incident, I kind of felt I owed him.”

Weezie interrupts. “You don’t owe him shit. Whatever he did that night, he did of his own volition,” she says, lighting up yet another smoke. My tale of Latch McKay is going to end up causing her lung cancer at this rate.

“Well regardless, in my mind, I felt I did. I decided that the only way to get him to stop basically stalking me was to go to his office and give him a
puff chore
.” I try to sound laid back about the entire thing.

Weezie spits her wine out of her mouth and nose; it flies several feet into the bushes. Both her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.

“You did what? Are you crazy? You went down to Latch McKay’s business office to give him a puff chore! Really, bullshit, you did not.” Weezie stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind and now that I’m telling her the story—she may be right.

After three glasses of wine and a little white pill, I’m thoroughly intoxicated. The drinks have nicely warmed me, while the pill made me feel relaxed and calm. I’m feeling gutsy.

“Yup, walked right into his office and told him I was there to suck his co—”

Weezie cuts me off as she jumps out of her chair laughing. “You did not!” She’s almost shrieking. She laughs so hard tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

“Not only that, but I swallowed!” I exclaim proudly.

Weezie is stunned, but only momentarily. “You let him come in your mouth?” She moves back to a more serious tone.

“Well, yeah, I was in the zone. And by the way, his cock is as gorgeous as he is,” I state matter-of-factly, not even shy about using the word “cock.”

“Jesus, Haven, you do realize that Latch McKay is a manwhore, right? What you did is very personal and reckless. I can’t decide if I’m more shocked because you blew Latch McKay, or that you’ve finally said the wor
d
‘cock
’
! What’s next, actually saying the word ‘fucking’? I mean seriously, he’s been with more women than I’ve had men, but I’m always careful.” Her face is a mixture of shock and worry.

I regard her words carefully. I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean God only knows, along with Google, where his cock has been. Frankly, when I had decided to do it, I lost all sense of rationality. Obviously, if I had been in the right state of mind, I would have never even considered doing it.

“Oh hell, you’ve had way too much wine. Time to cut you off, Haven.” Weezie chuckles as she pats my hand with hers. I grab her hand and look at her as sadness darkens my face.

“Aren’t you even going to ask what happened after I swallowed?” I ask with distain.

“Okay, Haven, what happened afterward?” Weezie asks, staring at me.

“He didn’t say one word. Just zipped up his pants, wa
lked away and took a phone call.” I lower my voice along with my eyes. I can still feel how wounded his actions made me feel.

“He did what?” Weezie’s furious. “That motherfucker! WOW! What a prick!” Weezie slams her wine glass down on the table.

“That’s why he sent me the shoes and the note,” I tell her weakly.

“Oh, sweetie, I really wish you had told me all this stuff in the beginning. You could have told me the morning after the party. I mean, he must have brought you home.” I nod. “I could have helped you through all of this. Just forget about him. You don’t need someone in your life to drag you back into the ‘Jared abyss.’ Latch is just a spoiled little boy, a poser.”

“Weeze, I can’t forget, trust me, I’ve tried. I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. He’s the sweetest torture I’ve ever known. He makes me feel things, emotions I’ve never felt with anyone. It’s as if he’s under my skin, in my cells, coursing through my blood. I not only desire him, I crave him. Do I sound crazy? Because I feel unbalanced.” I’m sure my expression is pained.

“Haven, I do understand. I just don’t want you to read too much into this guy’s attention, because truthfully, he might just be yanking your chain. I’m just worried for you.” Weezie stands up and moves toward me. “And, Haven, you’re not unbalanced. You’ve just had way too much wine.”

I wobble slightly as I try to stand. Weezie grabs me by my arm to steady me.

“I know he’s way too young for me. I also realize that this isn’t going to be a long-term thing, but I really just wanted to be with him for a little while, that’s all. You should be thrilled. I might even finally have a boy toy without batteries,” I say, stifling a yawn as Weezie laughs.

I need a good night’s sleep and some much needed reflection regarding Latch. I need to figure out how far I want to take this. Do I call him, text him, send him a note? I mean, he did buy me shoes. It’s going to be hard enough to look him in the face again after the disastrous ordeal concerning the puff chore. Why send me nine hundred dollar shoes with a note after the world’s worst oral sex? That in itself is confusing. His behavior was strange to say the least. I know what’s wrong with me, but what’s his issue? At least everything is out in the open with Weezie, and that makes me feel better.